If I Have To
by Sky the wolfdog9
Summary: AU. France and England have gone to war against America and Canada. Off in the Air Force, some pilots are having their own problems. USUK, Franada, others. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

** Eh, since 'Don't Let it Get to Your Head' is pretty much almost done, decided to get another story started. :3 I'm not sure how long this one will last either, so hang tight with me.**

** Okay, before I get this started, I have a very vague idea how Air Force units such work, so please inform me if you do so I can adjust a few things. A lot of chapters also might not be proof read, so please bear with me…I tend to not proof read them and they end up looking like an epic failure…^^;**

** So yup. That's all I have to say. Enjoy~**

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Two pairs of booted feet echoed in the near empty hangar as the sun began to set, painting the sky a wide plethora of colors. The two young men the steps came from stopped in front of two McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagles standing dormant side by side for the moment. The one on the right had a 'THE HERO' painted in bold red, white and blue letters on the nose while the other had a red maple leaf near the window of the cockpit. It clearly was added without care, for it was sloppy and crooked.

One of the young men was Alfred F. Jones, and he was turning twenty in three days, his friend, Matthew Williams having turned twenty just that day. He had messy wheat blond hair, one stubborn cowlick sticking up into the air almost proudly. His eyes were a lively blue, watching his surroundings behind a pair of glasses and he normally held a confident, toothy grin.

Matthew Williams could easily be mistaken for Alfred when out of said American's presence and when Alfred was with him, they were mistaken for twins most of the time. He had wavy wheat blond hair as well, though it was a shade lighter from his earlier years living in Canada. One strand stuck out as well, though it looped down and over and hung in front of his face. His eyes were often the topic of debate in between the two look alikes, Matthew thought they were dark blue, Alfred thought they were purple. He was shy, but spoke up when he really had to.

"So! We're just supposed to get some patrolling done right?" Alfred grinned confidently as he looked proudly at his plane, stuffing his gloved hands into the pockets to the old fashioned World War Two bomber jacket he wore. Matthew nodded his head in confirmation, the curl handing in front of his face bouncing slightly. "Coolio bro! Who else's comin'? I think it was Gilbert, Feli, Lovino and Kiku right?" Matthew nodded his head again. "Thought so!"

America and Canada had gone to war against England and France. America had apparently 'threatened' England and conclusions were drawn without any real negotiations. People didn't really like the US much though anymore, which was probably why the war came out of seemingly nowhere. Canada came to the aid of the US since fake threats had been sent by France. Tensions were high before all of this happened too, so this was just the spark that set off the powder keg. They were at the height of the war—Washington DC had just been badly bombed by France and Britain and US citizens were expecting action to be taken. Pronto.

So they were responding with a flight to Paris. They were obviously going to encounter the Armée de l'Air on their way and despite the circumstances, Alfred was pumped. He'd never seen real combat yet and neither had Matthew—the guy was raring to go shoot some F1's out of the sky and maybe some Eurofighters. Matthew wasn't so thrilled about it, but was still angry about the attack on eastern Canada from England and France that had lasted two months. Almost the entire east was uninhabitable up to this day, and Matthew was bent on getting some good ol' revenge for his country.

He was especially bent on shooting down that wavy haired blond that had gone as far as blowing a kiss at him as he flew low to the ground and rather slowly in his Dassault Mirage F1, a rose painted on the side and some scrawly white text that Matthew couldn't read at the current moment. Matthew had watched him shoot five Royal Canadian Air Force pilots out of the air with ease. Alfred had immediately called Matthew, praying that his friend was still alive.

Alfred also had a friend who had just recently moved to England and it broke his heart. Arthur Kirkland was his name and the two had fawned over aircraft ever since their elementary years. From what Alfred could remember, he had messy, sandy blond hair and large eyebrows that rested just above his vibrant green eyes. Sometimes Alfred would make fun of the Briton because of how unnaturally green they were, but when he was alone, he would mull over how they were like the brightest emeralds in the entire world.

It was _very_ likely Alfred would meet Arthur in the air and all it would result in was a fierce dogfight in between two of the best aircraft in the world.

Alfred had received a letter from Arthur just a week ago that read:

_Dear Alfred,_

_ Sometimes I really wonder why we're in the war. I can't exactly get into America without having people look at me and I heard from someone that it was super hard to get into America in the first place. I received your earlier letter and I don't know whether I should congratulate you on getting into the US Air Force or not, because that makes you my opponent. I just happened to get into the Royal Air Force about the same time, so that's why I wrote that. The Eurofighter Typhoon is an amazing plane, I assure you and well…be careful. It's fast and deadly. Don't die on me. _

_ I've made a new friend, though he barely knows any English. His primary language is French and obviously he's from France. I was in Paris with my squadron since our base had been moved to western France. We decided to just go to Paris and have a ball. He's another pilot too, in the Armée de l'Air and he's really strange. Personality wise. He went on a fly to escort bombers to eastern Canada a bit ago and I have yet to inform you about it. They really hit Canada hard from what I'm seeing, heard that the entire east is inhabitable. I hope Matthew's okay? Please tell me he's okay, it'd break my heart to hear that Francis has killed a friend of mine. He said he saw someone he liked and 'spared' them. God, sometimes he can be a real wanker sometimes. _

_ I…actually no, I can't tell you. _

_ I hope you're okay Alfred. Have you seen any action? Reply as soon as possible._

_ Yours truly,_

_ Arthur Kirkland_

Alfred had then replied two days later.

_Artie,_

_ First thing's first, no need to be so formal~! Oh…you're in the RAF…well…I just hope we don't have to shoot at each other! If we do encounter each other, just know I'm the F-15 with 'THE HERO' painted on the nose of my baby~! _

_ Oh, Mattie told me he saw some guy with wavy blond hair blow him a kiss as he flew by and he vowed to shoot 'that damn hoser' out of the sky. Ha, ha, if that guy is Francis, I'll just laugh at the irony of how things work…ah, I love it~ So much. He sounds really interesting, maybe I'll have to fly over once this war is over? Well…we'll have to see how the results of the war affect our countries, but I'm dying to see you~!_

He then ended his letter with a risky:

_Love you._

_ Alfred F. Jones_

It would take about three, four more days before he'd get a reply, and that was if Arthur immediately replied to his letter. Alfred couldn't admit but excitedly anticipate his reply letter, he really wanted to know Arthur's response to the 'love you' at the end of his letter.

The two look alikes perked up when they heard a loud, obnoxious laughing and loud, angry yelling accompanied by a slightly hopeless voice trying to calm the angry one. "They're here," Alfred grinned, turning around so that he was facing in the direction of the voices. Matthew simply glanced over his shoulder as Gilbert Beilschmidt, Lovino and Feliciano Vargas and Kiku Honda approached them, flying gear already on.

Gilbert had remained in America while his brother, Ludwig, moved to Germany. It was very likely he was in either the Royal Air Force or the Armée de l'Air for his love for aircraft and aerial combat rivaled Alfred's. Gilbert liked to pretend that his brother wasn't going to be his enemy by becoming a 'jackass' in many pilot's eyes. Alfred and Matthew tolerated him though. Alfred and Gilbert could even be considered best friends.

Lovino and Feliciano were twin brothers unlike Alfred and Matthew. Lovino was ill-tempered while Feliciano was the polar opposite, being calm and oblivious. He had fallen in love with Ludwig, but had yet to confess. He had cried the day Ludwig left for Europe with the tension England and France had with America and Canada, it having become public. Lovino had huffed and told him to 'man up' while Alfred tried to comfort the Italian the best he could.

Kiku Honda had come to America when the war broke out, claiming that he wanted to fight alongside Alfred for America and Canada. He had barely made the physical testing, being a bit on the scrawny side. If it weren't for Alfred and Gilbert's crazy ways of encouragement, Kiku would've never made it in. He did love flying, though, and sometimes, Alfred and Kiku would practice maneuvers together, especially the counter maneuver. Kiku had quite a bit of trouble with it and was intent on learning it. Alfred, having spent so much time in the cockpit, knew it like the back of his hand…or America's national anthem, _The Star Spangled Banner_. He always found joy in pulling off the counter maneuver without a hitch and couldn't wait to use it in combat.

"Yo Al!" Gilbert grinned broadly, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Ready to blow some Frenchie's up?" he continued confidently and Alfred grinned himself, shaking his head.

"Slow down Gilbort," he added the 'o' in his name ever since he'd said Gilbert's name wrong one day when they first met. It annoyed the hell out of Gilbert. "We gotta land on an aircraft carrier one third of the way there, so calm down," he couldn't say that he himself was calm though. He was so excited he was considering skipping the carrier. He loved the air, not the sea. "Plus, we gotta met them Lancers (1) halfway from when we leave the carrier."

"Ugh, so damn complex!" Gilbert sighed heavily, letting go of Alfred as he approached his F-15, 'AWESOME' painted in red, black and yellow, bold letters along both sides of his plane. "C'mon, I wanna shoot some bastards out of the sky!" Gilbert continued with a toothy grin. He didn't care whose side he was on, as long as he was 'shooting bastards out of the sky', he was fine.

"Alright guys! I'm leading today! Let's get this party started!" Alfred announced excitedly, Lovino barking at him to shut up, for he was currently venting on Feliciano. Patting the pistol attached and concealed on his hip, Alfred jumped into the F-15, checking the control panel, a daily deed. Matthew, Lovino, Feliciano, Gilbert and Kiku soon followed suit.

"_Let's go Alfred!"_ Gilbert called excitedly, his voice clear on the radio. Alfred gave them a thumbs up before they drove their planes out of the hangar and onto the runway, currently waiting for the signal to go. They were to be met by 400 and 354 squadrons once they were pretty close to France. Then they'd meet the bombers.

A marshaller stood near the runway, giving the six pilots signals. They were all clear, and eventually, they were taking off at nice speeds. Once they were off of the ground, Alfred turned and grinned at Matthew who just happened to look over at his American friend, returning the gesture. "_Tally ho! We're off losers!_"

"_Gilbert, please refrain from calling your comrades that…_" Kiku replied, though Alfred heard the small hint of excitement in the Japanese boy's voice.

"Hang tight guys, this'll take a few hours," Alfred spoke into his radio.

"_Fuck! Stop being such a damn killjoy Jones!"_ Gilbert barked, though one could hear the broad grin in his voice. "_C'mon, we should just ditch the carrier and go straight there!"_

"_Gilbert, our planes don't have enough fuel for that, we're about two thousand miles short," _came Matthew's almost deadpan reply. Gilbert huffed moodily and they continued on.

III

"Ah Alfred, good to see you," Toris, one of the marshallers on the aircraft carrier, greeted the American with a smile. The two had been childhood friends for a brief moment before Toris moved away to South Carolina. "So, are you happy about getting your first real mission?"

"Hell yeah," Alfred grinned, patting Toris on the shoulder. "The sunset's amazing during takeoff too," he continued, glancing up at the sky, the sun having already set. "God…I'm so excited, but just the thought…I'm bombing _the_ City of Lights Toris…" Alfred sighed, shaking his head.

"Do you doubt yourself?" Toris asked, though it wasn't a challenge, just more curious than so. "I know it's a tough job."

"No, no, I'm not doubting it's just really like…wake up and smell the coffee or something," Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, it's Paris. Love, lights, food, accordions, giving up, stuff!" Alfred threw his arms into the air. "It's just really hard to believe. It'll be even harder once we go off to bomb London…I've been hearing things about that, but I don't think we're planning on doing it super soon. But soon."

"Yeah, that's how war works," Toris nodded his head before glancing out at the night sky and the waves. He then looked at Alfred and smiled lightly. "I think you should go take a nap, you're going to need all of your energy for the upcoming raid."

"I guess," Alfred sighed, itching at the back of his head. "God, Gilbert's probably wreaking havoc on this carrier, better check up on him and tell him to stop whatever the hell he's doing," he chuckled, shaking his head before turning to leave. "Yeah, I'll go take a nap, see you later Toris."

"Good night Alfred," Toris nodded his head. He watched the American before looking back out at the ocean. Alfred obviously wouldn't get much sleep on a boat like this, but Toris couldn't help but worry about his friend. Hopefully they wouldn't get torpedoed either.

Gilbert grinned as he watched the almost cloudless sky, listening to the waves below as well. "Ah…now if only I had a nice bottle of beer…" he mulled dreamily. That'd totally hit the spot, getting ready to bomb the hell outta France with a bottle of beer. Flying while inebriated wasn't allowed, but he always managed to get away with it—he was a hell of a pilot when he was drunk too! Why did they not want him to be drunk? "Bruder…damn, you _better_ not be in the RAF of the ALA…" he sighed and shook his head, placing his hands on his hips.

He couldn't wait to get flying again. Just the thought of weaving in between B-1 Lancers whilst shooting at British and French pilots made an excited chill run through his body. He wondered how many he'd be able to shoot down. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned at his plane and the word awesome written in bold letters as if it could grin back at him. "You're gonna be seeing some real combat babe," he laughed lightly, his unnaturally red eyes gleaming happily in the darkness.

With a sigh, Gilbert seated himself, crossing his legs. He stayed a good distance from the edge of the carrier, nobody really wanted to fall off of one at night. He then yawned before rubbing his eyes. "Damn I'm tired…where the fuck is everyone else?" he muttered, glancing over his shoulder just as he spotted Alfred propping up against a wall, tipping the cap he had brought with him over his eyes so he could block out the lights on the carrier. Feliciano had fallen asleep in his place and Lovino along with Kiku were currently getting ready to hit the sack. With another sigh, Gilbert heaved himself up before sauntering over to his plane, bent on catching some z's.

Alfred's short two hours of sleep couldn't exactly be called sleep, for he kept waking up over and over, the excitement eating at him. Eventually, Toris approached him, Alfred already being half awake and shook him until he was fully awake. "You've got to takeoff pretty soon," he smiled softly down at his friend. You'll be meeting 400 and 354 a bit from here too," he continued. "You're plane's been fueled up."

"Awesome," Alfred yawned, tugging the cap off of the top of his head and dragging himself over to his F-15, finding Gilbert and Feliciano still dead asleep in the cockpits to their planes. Lovino, Kiku and Matthew were inspecting their control panels, Lovino muttering angrily to himself. Alfred was used to being woken up when the sun was rising, but there still remained quite a few hours before sunrise.

His plane roared to life and Gilbert jumped awake, Feliciano's awakening being less dramatic. "Gah! Warn me next time fucker…" Gilbert growled as he swung his legs into the cockpit. "God dammit, it's so damn late…wait, what the hell? What time is it? Is it late, or early?"

"Ugh…it's midnight," Alfred sighed, shaking his head as he pulled the cockpit closed. He wondered if he'd be able to get some sleep after this, obviously the French would want to get back at them for what they were just about to do. "Alright boys, let's go, hurry up Feli, you're going to be left behind if you move any slower."

"_Yup, yup, I'm hurrying Alfred,"_ Feliciano happily replied. It was as if he had gotten a full eight hours of sleep instead of two. "_Okay, I'm ready~!"_

"Cool, alright, we're ready," Alfred nodded his head and a few marshalls, including Toris, led them off of the carrier. He looked over his shoulder once he was airborne, grinning back at his friend Toris who was watching with a wide smile stretching at his lips. Giving his friend a salute, Alfred turned around and pushed the plane to fly faster.

"_I'm so damn tired, but I'll definitely be awake by the time we bomb the living daylights out of them Frenchie's,"_ Gilbert announced with a yawn. Alfred shook his head before replying with a snobby comeback that made Gilbert explode on him. Lovino then interrupted, telling the two to 'shut the fucking hell up'. They did so, though reluctantly.

Quite a bit of time passed before a few planes approached them, the US Air Force roundel visible. Alfred grinned in their direction, though didn't exactly get any recognition from his fellow pilots. A few even had the Royal Canadian Air Force roundels. "_M'kay boys, heard you're new to combat, so all I have to say to ya is be careful and don't let any of those Eurofighters get on your tail."_

"_Jack off man! We're totally ready for them. Even the Mirage's! The F1's!" _was Gilbert's highly energetic voice—looks like he's now fully awake and ready to go. Alfred was still a bit tired, but was started to fully wake up. A bit more time passed and eventually, when he spotted the bombers up ahead, he was at full alert.

"Guys, are we seriously that close to France?" he asked, glancing around himself, unable to find either of his friends. There were about thirty five fighters around him, five of them all being his friends, so it wasn't likely they'd really be able to hang around each other much. He then looked on ahead. "Holy…hell…"

Up ahead were about fifty fighters, bent on protecting their country. They were level with them as well, so the two opposing sides were bound to collide sooner or later. "_Hell yes, hell yes, HELL YES! Boom, let's get this party started!"_ Gilbert hooted excitedly. Alfred looked around himself once more now to find Gilbert at his side. "_Alright guys, watch my awesomeness!" _

"Hold up Gilbert God. We have to protect the bombers, it's not all about us," Alfred informed and one of the pilots from 400 squadron agreed with him before explaining that they should stick next to the bombers until the F1's and Eurofighters became a real threat.

"_Well what the hell do you consider threatening?"_ Gilbert barked, voice full of irritation.

"_When they dive_."

"_God…such a killjoy, ugh, I don't even think they'll have to dive with how level we are with them,"_ Gilbert sighed exasperatedly. "_Alright Alfred, let's get our awesome on, though you're not as awesome as me obviously."_

"Alright guys, get in close," Alfred urged, his heart racing in anticipation once the planes became even more distinguishable.

"_Alfred?"_ Matthew suddenly spoke up and Alfred rose his eyebrows in slight interest.

"Yup, that's me."

"_…If you get shot out of the air, I'm going to find a way to kill you even if you're already dead,"_ Matthew continued, sounding slightly concerned and Alfred grinned. He didn't feel like joking with Matthew at the moment, he really could get shot out of the sky now.

There was a moment of silence before Alfred noticed that a missile was headed his way. "_Shit!_ Holy fuck!" he cussed as he weaved out of the way, shooting off a few flares so the missile would be misled.

He pulled off to the side before turning to find that the orderly formation that they were holding not too long ago, was now mass chaos. He shot at an F1 that was passing by, barely nicking it and catching the pilot's attention. The guy had wavy blond hair and there was a rose painted on the side of his plane along with white cursive under it. "Mattie, I think I've got you're guy!" he grinned, pulling around until he was on the guy's tail. "Ha, ha! Mattie, I might beat you to the punch!"

"_No way! I'm getting revenge for Canada! Watch me!"_ Matthew called, voice full of excitement and fear as his F-15 exploded by, getting only one bullet in the French pilot's wing. Alfred heard Matthew cuss briefly before he was able to shoot at his opponent again. They were looping around and around and Alfred was getting dangerously dizzy. He was corkscrewing and turning in a tight circle at the same time, shooting at the French pilot in a rather amateur act.

"_Whoa, whoa! Slow down Jones, you're going to kill yourself, take a deep breath and stop all of that crazy stuff you're doing!" _a pilot from 354 called. "_Don't worry, I've got your back."_

"Thanks…" he muttered as he pulled out of the turn.

"_Whoa! Don't do that!"_ the French pilot was now on his tail and he had to try to our maneuver the Mirage F1. Alfred cussed to himself as he avoided bullets and missiles and listened to the gunfire behind him, coming from the 354 pilot who was currently trying to protect him.

Looking off to his right, Alfred spotted a bomber falling for the earth, one of its wings bending from the uneven force and falling off, all of it happening as if it were in slow-motion. Alfred quickly looked away and refused to think about the people aboard the plane. He snapped back to his own problem when he felt his plane jolt slightly and looking to his left, he spotted a few holes in his wing. "Dammit!"

"_Hold on Alfred! I'm coming!"_ Matthew called, voice full of determination and worry. There was even more gunfire and then a missile could be heard being released. Alfred took a brief moment to crane his neck around so he was glancing over his shoulder just as the French pilot sent off three flares, the missile going off target.

Then he remembered that he could try out the counter maneuver. Licking his lips, Alfred glanced at the instrument panel before pulling on the lever, the plane going into a half flip. He grinned toothily down at the French pilot who watched him preform the counter maneuver, their eyes locking briefly before he remembered to fire. He managed to get a few rounds in the body of the French pilot's plane and he cheered as the F1 quivered briefly before getting bombarded by Matthew and the 354 pilot.

The ALA pilot got away though, turning at shooting at a 400 pilot. "Wimp!" Alfred called, euphoric from his first real dogfight. His heart was racing, and it wasn't over yet.

"_Yeah! Third one down!"_ Gilbert whooped excitedly and Alfred's eyebrows shot up. Had Gilbert already shot down three foes? While he was getting his ass chased by who could've been, according to Arthur, Francis. But he didn't know that, so this guy that blew kisses from his plane was just an enemy. "_Whoo! Party! We're totally killing these guys, damn!"_

"_Dive down Alfred, dive! You've got someone on your tail! Shoot a flare!"_ came Feliciano's frantic voice and Alfred immediately shot off three flares before diving off to the right steeply. He looked over his shoulder frantically, trying to catch a glimpse at the one trailing him, unable to catch sight of them unfortunately.

"I can't see 'em Feli, shoot 'em down for me!" he called and Feliciano made an affirmative noise. There was gunfire, an explosion, some more gunfire and eventually, Alfred watched the French plane that had been tailing him plummet past him, and to the earth, smoke and fire exploding from where the engine was. "Awesome Feli! You got the guy's engine!"

"_Yaay~!" _Feliciano cheered happily. There was some more mind whirling combat before Feliciano happily sung into his radio. "_Ve~! They're retreating!"_

"_Hold tight buddy, that doesn't mean we're completely home-free, there's obviously going to be more since we're on their home turf,"_ the 354 pilot that had assisted Alfred earlier grunted. "_C'mon, let's make this quick."_

Alfred grinned and glanced up at the sky. The sun still had yet to rise, and that was one epic dogfight. Flares and missiles were the only things that lit up the sky around them along with the firing of bullets from the wings of their planes. It was like a fireworks display, only a little less colorful and more heart racing. It was spectacular. When planes crashed on the west coast of France, fire and smoke billowed up into the air, becoming little fireballs on the ground—some went out, some didn't.

Eventually, they chased the ALA and some RAF pilots pretty far into France before they were met with more planes. Over Paris. And the city was beautiful. Alfred couldn't imagine dropping bombs on it. But alas, there were multiple explosions, and it came true, Paris was being set ablaze. "Oh my God, look at that…" Alfred muttered mostly to himself as a building was completely demolished by a bomb. He couldn't imagine knocking over skyscrapers and Paris consisted mostly of seven story buildings mostly because of the restriction.

Some more ALA pilots met them above Paris and another dogfight erupted, this time the bombers dropping their load on the City of Lights. It truly was the city of lights in a way—before the bombing that was. He dove down and flew in between the four curved supports that made the Eiffel Tower. It was something he didn't exactly want to do again, despite France being their opponent, he preferred to keep the Eiffel Tower standing. The French pilot followed after him, spinning through the gap and shooting at him. Alfred then remembered that he shouldn't be flying straight.

He performed the counter maneuver again, though, this time, he had a small slip up and nicked his wing on the tall monument. Panicking that he could've damaged his plane, Alfred glanced over his shoulder to see that his wing looked fine and that the French pilot was shooting a missile at him.

Matthew watched Alfred fly in between the four legs of the Eiffel Tower in a rather flashy move and figured that his friend was just showing off. His heart skipped a beat when Alfred's wing nicked one of the legs and he soon began to fear for his friend's life as a missile was being sent at him. Luckily, Alfred was able to outmaneuver it and the weapon collided with a building down below. Matthew briefly flinched before reminding himself that France had completely destroyed one third of Canada. With new found determination, he tailed another ALA pilot, their roundel clearly visible now that they were flying over the City of Lights. It wasn't called that for nothing.

He shot at the plane for one second before breaking off just as the Mirage F1 veered off to the side and nosedived. He didn't stay long enough to watch it explode upon impact with a building. He suddenly began doubting why he had even signed up. They were completely destroying this iconic capital.

"_Let's turn around guys, all our load's gone,"_ one bomber pilot announced and Matthew immediately obeyed, turning his plane in the direction of home. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Gilbert and Alfred were double teaming an ALA pilot, shooting him out of the sky before following the rest of them, some ALA pilots finding enough courage to chase after them and shoot down whoever they could for bombing France's capital.

Eventually, they gave up and turned around. They would be met again on their way out of France by some more ALA squadrons, but at the current moment, they were ditching the City of Light that was now almost completely ablaze. This mission had been so successful that Matthew wondered if it was luck. Glancing over his shoulder again, Matthew watched the fire and smoke reach up for the sky, consuming most of the city. Pressing his lips into a determined thin line, Matthew reminded himself that France had done much worse to Canada. He remembered the horror of the raid.

And for some reason, he couldn't help but look forward to the next escort mission.

XXXX

**(1) Rockwell B-1 Lancer – Bomber that is currently in service in the US Air Force.**

** Lol, I'm using modern aircraft, mainly because I obviously can't make up my own for my life (names, mechanics and stuff like that). Ugh, this chapter already feels like an epic failure…Oh well. Hm, I was going to say something, but I forgot. So yeah, please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D Oh, and this will be multi chapter. **_**Now**_** peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: The fortune cookie is actually American (specifically Californian).**


	2. Chapter 2

** Huuuu…just got a shot and I feel weiiirrd. O_O**

**XXXX**

_Alfred,_

_ It's great to hear Matthew's okay, though he might be a little vengeful…I hope we don't meet in the air, but just so you know, I will NOT hesitate to shoot at you. I will fight for my country as hard as you are for yours and like stated earlier, I will not hesitate to shoot you out of the sky if I have to. You should also worry a bit more about Panavia Tornado's, they're faster than the Eurofighter. And…just don't die._ (1)

_I heard that you went off to Paris and according to Francis 'bombed the hell out of them'. He's kind of angry about it too, I had to hit him. He also said that he saw someone that looked a lot like you during the dogfight over Paris. Yes, I showed him a picture of you. If you saw a wavy haired blond guy with an F1 that has a rose and 'L'amour' painted in white cursive, that's him. I can guarantee you that._

_ I wish you the best of luck in combat._

_ Arthur Kirkland_

III

July fourth. Independence Day along with Alfred's birthday—what luck. Normally he'd be spending his birthday by setting off fireworks and causing a bit of trouble in the neighborhood, eating until he felt sick, then eat some more once he felt better and ever since he was fifteen, fly a plane (2) until its fuel ran so dangerously low that he'd be scolded and lectured about it. But today, he didn't exactly have access to fireworks, didn't feel like eating until he was sick and clearly couldn't fly whenever he pleased.

"Happy birthday Al," Matthew smiled as he approached Alfred, throwing a small, unwrapped box at him.

Catching it easily, Alfred grinned back at his look alike friend. "Aw, awesome dude, thanks," he pulled the cover to the box off and pulled out a necklace, the chain being a thin black string instead along with a silver F-15 pendant twirling in circles. "Where'd you go to get it? It's pretty awesome," he continued as he pulled the necklace over his head.

"You're welcome and I'm not supposed to tell you where I got it," Matthew grinned before seating himself down. "You wouldn't like how I had to kill a lot of people for it," Matthew then snickered, obviously joking around and Alfred snorted humorously.

"I'm sure you murdered plenty you horrible person," he laughed lightly and folded up the piece of paper that was the letter Arthur had sent in reply. He had received it yesterday and had read it this morning, not having enough time to do so, for the French and the British were going all out on the east coast. "Man, I really hope we go flying today, that'd be a nice birthday present."

"Lucky you, it's pretty likely that we'll have to be scrambled today," Matthew shook his head, still grinning at Alfred's eagerness to get out there and actually shoot missiles at other people. Though, sometimes it was hard to consider them people since you didn't exactly see them with how fast everyone was zooming around and posing as a threat to you. Kind of like wasps, they're moving really fast, and sometimes it's hard to consider it a living thing with how badly you want to just leave you alone. "Heard Yao from 400 squadron lead a pretty massive raid on Paris two days ago."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that too, God, from what I've been hearing it was just…wow," Alfred sighed, shaking his head as he rested his elbows on his knees. "They're attacking bases too of course, but those don't really make the front page."

"Also heard the Eiffel Tower was damaged."

Alfred's eyebrows rose and he straightened up. "Oh? That's too bad…I was kind of hoping that that thing would last through all of this fighting," he sighed, resting his elbows on his knees once more. "But it's a huge thing that's just…right there, it's obviously going to get hit sooner or later," he continued and Matthew nodded his head in agreement.

"We…also have a raid planned for the tenth on London…from what I've been listening in on," Matthew muttered. "I-I mean, I wasn't eavesdropping but…I just happened to walk by and hear about it."

"Alright, finally going back over there, we've been sitting ducks for too long."

"From your perspective. There're other squadrons too to carry out missions Al," Matthew chided and Alfred rolled his eyes, grinning.

"Sure, whatever you say. Anyways, you don't sound that worried Alfred."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well…you might encounter Arthur there. Doesn't that worry you at all?" Matthew asked. Of course it worried Alfred to the point of doubting himself, but he boldly covered it up with a broad grin.

"Yeah, a bit, but not a whole bunch," he said and Matthew hummed thoughtfully. "I mean, you're acting more worried than I am to be truthful," he then pointed out and Matthew huffed, crossing his arms and staring down at Alfred in a way that said 'did you have to say that?'. He stood up and pat Matthew on the shoulder.

"Wait…how'd you know about Arthur being in the RAF?" Alfred asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Even though there was nothing excessively embarrassing in the letters yet, he really hopped Matthew hadn't been going through his stuff…talk about invading his space.

"U-uh…I read the letter you left on your bed three days ago…" Matthew muttered, fidgeting with his index fingers nervously. He hoped Alfred didn't get really mad at him. Alfred was about to say something when Gilbert burst into the room, catching Kiku, Lovino and Feliciano's attention.

"Let's go losers! We totally have a whole bunch of RAF guys coming our way!" he announced and they all jumped to action. Alfred hastily pulled on his boots and got a few other things gathered before he followed Matthew out to the hangar.

"Alright 205! Let's chase these Brit's out of here!" Alfred announced through his radio and Gilbert made a sound of approval. They were in the air in no time and heading in the direction of Richmond, Virginia.

They were quickly met with a dogfight in progress, a bomber already plummeting to the earth below along with quite a few fighters buzzing around like a swarm of angry bees. A few of them had 400 painted in large, white numbers, telling Alfred that they were to be working alongside 400 squadron again.

"_Dammit! I wasn't able to finish my damn lunch fuckers_!" Lovino seethed over the radio, though Alfred didn't dedicate any time to searching for the Italian twin, he didn't need to know where he was. "_It's going to go cold and I'm going to have to microwave the damn thing! Goddammit!" _

"_Lovino, why're you so angry about that? It's fine after being microwaved I think,"_ Feliciano replied innocently and Alfred wondered how those two could talk about lunch as they weaved in between bombers and avoided colliding with Eurofighters, Tornado's, F-15's and F-16's along with a few others. Lovino and Kiku were the two out of the six that hung out with each other that had F-16 Falcon Fighters.

Alfred immediately locked on with a Eurofighter that had just passed by and immediately shot at it. It was slightly difficult with how slippery the RAF pilot was being and Alfred was getting slightly frustrated. "_Whoa! Ease up on the shooting Alfred. Use your missiles," _Yao informed and Alfred huffed.

"Ugh, I just…! Okay, whatever!" he replied, finding a good time to shoot a missile. It got the RAF pilot's wing and they immediately were thrown into a tight, out of control spin, heading quickly to the earth below. "Hell yes! Thanks for that tip Wang-Man!" Alfred whooped and pulled off to the side just as an F-15 with a sloppy maple leaf painted onto it and a Eurofighter exploded by. Fueled by his kill, Alfred yelled, "I've got this guy Mattie! Don't worry!"

"_No way! Hold on, I've got this guy, our F-15's are faster than these puppies!"_ Matthew called and pulled into a counter maneuver, Alfred whooping as Matthew's F-15 flew past and behind him, nose pointed in his direction at that short moment. They could've collided with how dangerously close they were, but it was worth seeing, Alfred would consider it cinema worthy.

Lovino and Feliciano were currently double teaming on an RAF pilot, Lovino swearing heatedly while Feliciano happily told his twin to just enjoy it. "God damn it!" Lovino wailed when his missile was outmaneuvered. He glared at the bull painted over a yellow circle on the Eurofighter that had just avoided being grounded and shot another missile. The green eyed pilot managed to outmaneuver the missile once more and Lovino could just feel his frustration building up inside of him. "Damn bastard!"

He tailed the Eurofighter and shot another missile at the same time as his twin. "Back off! I've got this bastard!" Lovino snapped and briefly caught sight of Feliciano nodding and pulling off to the side. Huffing, he quickly returned his attention to the RAF pilot that was currently fleeing from him. "I dare you to come closer fucker!"

Kiku steered his plane to the right and then to the left, desperately trying outmaneuver the three planes tailing him, two being Tornado's and one being a Eurofighter. The Tornado's were able to keep up with him while the Eurofighter had to do some fancy flying to keep up with his F-15. At the moment, he was trying pretty hard to get behind at least one of his pursuers, but it was pretty tough when you had three on your tail. "Ah! I need help, I've got two Tornadoes and one Eurofighter behind me and I can't shake them!" Kiku called into his radio, hoping that someone could find the time to help him out.

Eventually, the iconic 'AWESOME' and sloppy maple leaf paints appeared briefly before falling behind him and Kiku wondered if Gilbert or Matthew were going to help him, or if he'd have to deal with these three on his own. He sighed in relief when the Eurofighter fell past him in flames. Then one of the two Tornado's flew off to the side and past him, an F-15 following after it. "Whew…thank you Matthew, Gilbert. I don't know what would've happened to me if you wouldn't have helped…"

He soon figured that he had no time to talk and pulled off to the side—he'll take a shot at trying to shoot down a bomber. Kiku went in close and shot a missile only to be chased away by a Eurofighter with a bull painted over a yellow circle. He didn't know if he hit the bomber or not, but at the moment, he was now being chased again.

Gilbert grinned broadly as he watched a missile he'd just sent after the Tornado he was chasing hit it square on. "Ha, ha, buh bye sucker!" he grinned, waving at the plane that was tumbling to the ground far below. "Beautiful, just beautiful!" he laughed, though it was short lived. He frowned when he saw two F-15's and an F-16 corkscrewing to the earth below as well, all three having been damaged extensively. "Is everyone there?"

"_Gah! Fuck yeah you damn bastard! Why _wouldn't_ I be here?"_

_ "Ve~! I'm here~! Why?"_

_ "You worryin' about us Gilbert? Ha! Totally didn't know you cared about us!"_

_ "Yeah, I'm here."_

_ "Me too."_

"Shut up Alfred, I'm just wondering," Gilbert grunted. He wouldn't admit it, but seeing those three planes ablaze, nose diving at high speeds had worried him a bit. He watched the three aircraft disappear below the clouds far below, two of the three pilots of the planes bailing out. At the moment, he was glad they weren't flying low at the moment, even if Richmond didn't exactly have tall skyscrapers, it was still a pain to imagine.

He craned his neck to the side and turned off in the direction he was looking, intent on getting the Tornado that was currently chasing Kiku. The poor guy was being chased like a wanted run away. Gilbert sent off two missiles, one turning off to the right to follow a flare and the second hitting the Tornado's wing. "Yeah! You're welcome Kiku!" he cheered as the Tornado shook, weaved and dipped in altitude before completely failing itself and falling into a steep nosedive.

He leveled himself when all of the commotion seemed to calm itself and finally noticed that the RAF pilots were retreating for the current moment. "Hah! Look at 'em runnin' with their tails between their legs! Let's chase after 'em! Come on! We can finish them off!" Gilbert chided excitedly.

_"Geez Gilbert! Slow down and take a breather_!" Alfred laughed. "_There are plenty of chances to do this again, promise!" _he continued and Gilbert whooped in his plane. "_Great job 205! Let's go home!"_

III

"Cheers to shooting down more fuckers!" Gilbert chimed happily, holding a beer bottle in the air before taking a large swig of it. "Ah! You want some Matthew?" he then offered, grinning at the Canadian who was clearly repulsed.

"Uh…no thanks…I'm underage anyways," he declined, holding a hand up and shoving Gilbert's offer away from him. The egotistical pilot huffed and muttered under his breath before taking another long drink of his liquor.

"I don't drink…" Kiku muttered quietly.

"I like wine more than beer and so does Lovino," Feliciano happily proclaimed, throwing an arm around Lovino's shoulder and pulling him closer in an affectionate way, only to be shoved away from his twin. Lovino muttered and swat at Feliciano's arm as the Italian tried to pull his twin closer once more.

"Ugh! Such killjoys!" Gilbert huffed exasperatedly. "Who knew?"

Alfred grinned and snickered at Gilbert's frustration. He and Matthew had just recently turned twenty, Kiku was twenty four, older than he appeared, Gilbert was twenty three and the two Vargas twins were twenty one.

With a sigh, he looked back down at the letter he'd just received yesterday, this being probably the sixth time he'd read it. He was disappointed that Arthur hadn't said anything about his semi love confession and didn't know what to think about when it came to the thought of Arthur openly attacking him. Yeah, he was defending his country, but it made Alfred feel detached from his old friend.

Sighing once more, Alfred crumpled up the letter and decided that he'd throw this one away, he'd memorized it anyways. He fished out a fresh piece of loose leaf paper and scavenged the room for a writing utensil. He eventually found an almost dried out pen. He seated himself at one of the tables, though, not the one his friends were sitting at and tapped the pen on the tabletop, wondering how he should write out his response.

_ Dear Arthur,_

This letter should be formal. He probably shouldn't joke about such a serious matter.

_Yeah, Mattie's thirsting for revenge alright. We got in a tangle with some Eurofighters and Tornado's, but they weren't anything 205 couldn't handle. I should be telling you to be careful because our F-15's are pretty damn fast too. Watched Feli out fly a Tornado and a Eurofighter earlier today when we were defending Richmond. The F-15 is either actually that fast, or it's Feli's retreating powers filtering into his plane that made it move that fast._

Alfred snickered at what he had just wrote and mentally told himself not to forget it. It was too good, Feliciano was great at retreating according to Lovino. Looking up at said Italian, he grinned as Feliciano whined about being hungry.

_We've got F-16's and a few others out there too that are pretty good, so let's just say we're even at the moment. _

_ …You'll shoot me down eh? Well then I guess I'll do the same then. I mean, I'm being serious about our planes being pretty fast, though a bit out dated in the slightest. These babies are pretty sick and I wouldn't want to pit myself against them, that's all I know. _

_ Ah…Rose guy. Yup, I've seen him once and Mattie's apparently seen him twice. Oh God, it's so funny how we're fighting someone that actually knows you and vice versa, it's kinda weird once you really think into it. I don't know it's just…weird. Ha, ha, l'amour. Typical French for ya eh?_

_ Then I guess I should wish you luck too?_

_ Alfred F. Jones_

He felt really awkward with how the letter turned out. It was so formal that it sounded nothing like himself. He was lighthearted and joked around and there was only one joke in this letter along with very little lightheartedness. He read it over a few times before sighing and setting it down—he'd mail it later. He was surprised that they actually let their letters go back and forth with how strained relationships were at the moment. The topics they were talking about could be considered exchanging information, but then again, it was stuff that was pretty obvious so maybe that was why they got through.

"Hey, what's bugging you?" looking up, Alfred saw that Matthew was sitting across from him, a lightly concerned look on his face. "You look a bit down at the moment," the Canadian pilot then pointed out and Alfred sighed.

"It's just…well," he sighed once more, trying to find words. "I'm thinking too much, don't worry about me," he waved a hand in the air dismissively and Matthew furrowed his eyebrows, seeing right through Alfred's attempt to get him to go away.

"And what might you be thinking too much over?" Matthew asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Who do you think you are? My new mother?" he asked, chuckling almost humorlessly as Matthew continued to stare at him expectantly. He then sighed in defeat and raked a hand through his messy hair. "I…I'm going to have to shoot at Arthur and he's going to have to shoot at me," he muttered quietly. "And…he's like, my best friend," he obviously meant more than that, "and I'm just having a reality check or something. He even said…well, wrote, himself that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot at me, but then again, maybe that's the case because it's kind of hard to see who's who when you're flying around at about one thousand miles per hour…"

Matthew sighed and pat Alfred on the shoulder. "Well…that's how war works," he didn't even try to encourage or reassure Alfred. There was no avoiding it, Alfred would have to shoot at Arthur whether he knew he was doing so or not. "So if you're really worried about that, just brace yourself for the trip to London in just a day shy from a week."

"Yeah, I'm tryin' pretty damn hard," Alfred grinned and Matthew rolled his eyes at Alfred's attempt to cheer himself up.

At a rather ungodly hour that morning, they were scrambled. They had been abruptly awoken by Gilbert who was screaming at them to 'get their fat asses out of bed and into their damn planes' and before they knew it, they were taking off for another location in Virginia. Even though it'd cause utter destruction, Alfred hoped that it was over a city so he wouldn't have to strain his eyes to see his opponents.

"_Fucking wine bastards deciding to come at the _worst_ damn time…"_ Lovino muttered darkly, voice murderous. "_I'm going to fucking show them not to wake me up at such a damn early time goddammit…"_

Feliciano was still about half asleep, too tired to try to reassure Lovino that he'd be able to go back to sleep once they got there.

Even though he'd woken everyone up to get their 'fat asses' into their planes, Gilbert eventually transitioned to complaining himself about the ungodly hour. "_Oh God, this is horrible…I'm so tired…fucking bastards…I'm going to shoot their fucking asses out of the sky…'cause I'm awesome."_

_ "Shut up guys, this is supposed to happen," _Matthew informed, the only one at the moment sounding fully awake.

_"Shut up dammit!"_ Lovino snapped and Feliciano yawned about wanting them to quiet down a bit. "_You want me to quiet down? I'll fucking yell all night at you, you bastard!"_ Lovino seethed and Alfred wondered how Feliciano could take the verbal abuse. Alfred would be talking right back if he had a sibling that cussed him out.

"Oh God, they're attacking DC again," Alfred muttered, spotting a few F-15's in a tangle with Mirage F1's and 2000's. "2000's? Damn it, those move as fast as our F-15's if they're at a high altitude—guys! Sorry if it'll wake you up further, but you're going to have to fly pretty damn low!"

"_Alfred that's dangerous! We won't be able to move much faster than them at low heights anyways!" _Matthew worried, voice full of concern.

"Yeah, but forty miles is just enough to out run them," Alfred muttered. "If you can, bring them down low guys, just don't go in the city, by God, do _not_ go in the city."

"_Can do Alfred,"_ Gilbert grinned, looking over at him and giving him a thumbs up. "_Whoo, I've totally got these guys!"_ he then whooped and broke out of their formation.

"Whoa! Gilbert, wai—fuck! God, that guy…" Alfred sighed, shaking his head. Eventually, the rest of them broke the formation anyways though, chasing and being chased by Mirage F1's and 2000's. Alfred was currently chasing an F1, trying to get a good shot at the ALA pilot with a missile. He just needed to wait for the right moment. "I've got'chya!" he grinned as he shot a missile. He cheered when the missile got the F1, sending the aircraft reeling to the side. "Yeah! Third kill!"

"Only_ three? God Alfred, you suck! I've already got ten, hell yeah!" _Gilbert boasted loudly.

"Shut up you show off!" Alfred barked, though a grin still stretched his lips as he pulled the plane up to chase after a 2000. "Just watch me, I'm gonna get this 2000 no problem!"

Matthew was currently chasing after an F1, having a bit of difficulty with getting a good angle to shoot a missile at it. This pilot really knew some aerobatics, but Matthew was pretty good himself. He watched a 2000 and a plane with 'THE HERO' painted on the nose fly by and assumed that Alfred was bent on grounding a 2000. He immediately returned his attention to the Mirage F1 he was chasing though.

After some fancy flying, Matthew took the chance and shot a missile, he had quite a bit more to spare. The F1 pilot outmaneuvered it and Matthew grunted in slight frustration, he didn't want to have his throttle wide open, for that'd be pretty fast for over Washington DC, but he'd have to speed up to get a better shot at the ALA pilot he was chasing. Licking his lips, he eased the throttle forward and felt the plane speed up. He grinned, but immediately had a slight panic attack when the F1 in front of him slowed significantly, forcing him to jerk to the side to avoid a full on collision. He yelped in surprise when his plane jolted violently and he looked at his left wing. Nothing. He looked at his right wing. Holy hell, that was some damage. What had likely happened was he veered off to the side just in time, but not nearly enough to avoid smashing his right wing into the F1 he had just avoided.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the Mirage F1 had a bit of its own damage dealt to it, but was still flying. Matthew really hoped this wasn't enough to completely ground him, it was pulling him to the right though and his plane was tilted to the side awkwardly. He was crippled, and everyone knew that you went for a crippled. "Fuck…!"

The roles have now been reversed, the ALA pilot now chasing after him. "Alfred! Anyone, I could use some help!"

"_Mattie, you're tilted awkwardly, what's up?" _Alfred replied, concern thick in his voice. "_Did you get hit?"_

"Ugh, sort of, more like I hit the guy that's following me now, but that's not the point! Help me out here!" Matthew called, shooting a flare to avoid getting hit by a missile.

Alfred was now chasing after the F1 that was chasing Matthew, eyes narrowed in concentration. He licked his lips and sent a missile after his foe, getting them square on the left wing, completely disabling them. "Yeah! There's one prisoner or war," Alfred grinned, watching as the plane tumbled to the city below. "…Oh shit…" he watched it collide with a building, creating an enormous fireball that stretched out as if it were trying to reach other edifices. "…Or not…"

"_Dive Alfred!"_ he immediately snapped to attention and did so, getting a bit too low for comfort just as a plane blew up above him, likely having been hit by a missile sent by Matthew who had instructed him to dive. His heart was pounding and he was getting slightly light headed with all of the G's he had to overcome. Wiping his brow, Alfred sighed.

"Ugh, Mattie, this is insane!"

"_Tell me about it later! You've got two guys on your tail!"_ Matthew warned and Alfred threw his plane into wild loops and turns in an attempt to get away from the two pilots that were apparently chasing him according to Matthew.

"_Hold on Alfred, I've got these bastards!"_ Gilbert called, his plane zooming in his direction before exploding by, Alfred briefly turning to watch Gilbert send a missile head on into an ALA pilot only to get a missile back. Luckily, he escaped from it, having come pretty close to being blown up a few times.

Eventually, after losing quite a bit of USAF pilots along with ALA, the French pilots began retreating, Gilbert yelling bold insults at them. "_Yeah! Run away! Hah! I still think we should chase after them_!"

"Hold on Gilbert! God, slow down, I already told you that! Mattie's flying like a drunk…" he muttered, though grinned at what he said wince it was kind of ironic. Matthew had declined a beer just a few hours ago and was now flying like he was absolutely smashed, his plane weaving back and forth.

"_Well _sorry_!"_ Matthew snapped, obviously struggling to keep his plane straight. "_Damn it! This plane…ugh, never mind…"_

"_Whoa! Dude, you hypocrite!" _ Gilbert hooted, obviously getting a kick out of the irony as well. Obviously it was dangerous how Matthew couldn't keep his plane straight, but in Alfred and Gilbert's eyes, it was funny. The irony, not the fact that Matthew had just gotten hit.

"_That looks dangerous Matthew, we should go back…"_ Kiku informed and Matthew agreed as Gilbert continued to laugh at him via the radio. They headed back to their base, Matthew muttering to himself and Gilbert snickering to himself about Matthew's woes.

"_Ha, ha…I still think it's really funny how you declined a good drink just last night and you're—"_

_ "Shut up Gilbert,"_ Matthew seethed and the silver haired pilot returned to snickering to himself.

Alfred grinned once some distinguishable landmarks appeared and they got ready to land. "Good job again 205. You're the greatest guys I know."

"_Thank you~!"_

"Except for you Gilbert," he snickered, obviously joking, but he couldn't resist.

"_Oh come on, I _know_ you think I'm awesome, just admit it. I mean, did you see me out there? I've got so many kills on my belt I should be considered a professional! But don't worry Alfred, I'm sure you'll get your tenth kill in about a couple of months~"_

"Gilbert. Shut up."

XXXX

**(1) Arthur's letter – God, he has mood swings. Err…if that's the right thing to say.**

**(2) Flying a plane at fifteen – As in when you take public piloting lessons, not military. Sixteen is when you can go solo. **

** M'kay, first thing's first, this story will start with just a whole bunch of England and France beating the shit out of America and Canada and vice versa and a few letters being sent back and forth between Alfred and Arthur. Then the war will end eventually (yes, I just spoiled something) and they'll get together, so it might take a while, or it might not take a whole bunch of time. So just hang tight with me. :) Wow, thank you guys so much for saying nice things about this. When I first posted it, I felt really dumb for doing so and also considered taking it down, but I guess I've got enough people liking it. That's good to hear. Oh, and thanks for telling me all of that stuff~! It really helps and don't hesitate to continue with that! **

** Here's some stuff I just want to get down.**

**205 Squadron (USAF)**

**Alfred: McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle (20 years old)**

**Matthew: McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle (20 years old)**

**Gilbert: McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle (23 years old)**

**Kiku: F-16 Fighting Falcon (24 years old)**

**Lovino: F-16 Fighting Falcon (21 years old)**

**Feliciano: McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle (21 years old)**

**400 Squadron (USAF)**

**Yao: F-16 Fighting Falcon (25 years old)**

**360 Squadron (RAF)**

**Arthur: Eurofighter Typhoon (23 years old)**

**Ludwig: Panavia Tornado (22 going on 23 years old)**

**Antonio: Eurofighter Typhoon (23 years old)**

**40 Squadron (ALA)**

**Francis: Dassault Mirage F1 (23 going on 24 years old)**

** That's all I've got for the current moment and sorry if the ages are all messy and strange and…stuff. But it's what I'm using. And I don't know what they call them in France, I'll look it up later. I did want to say something else, but I can't exactly remember it so yeah. Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: A cockroach can live a month without its head. Yuck.**


	3. Chapter 3

** Nooo, I didn't finish the outline for this chapter, noo. ;A;**

** …They need an action genre…**

**XXXX**

It was a beautiful morning out, it being warm and almost cloudless. The sound of the water slapping against the carrier they were currently on was sort of relaxing. The only thing that kept it from being something relaxing was the chance of being torpedoed even this far out in the Atlantic.

"I refuse to be your wingman," Gilbert deadpanned and Alfred grinned, settling himself on the nose of his F-15.

"And I refuse to be yours," he returned with a cheeky grin and Gilbert rolled his eyes. They were currently waiting to get to the good point so that they could takeoff for England. It was July tenth, and the mission Matthew had overheard about was being carried out by 205 squadron. "Oh hey, Yao's going to be leading 400 to some bases they're told to go bomb and shit like that, just so you know. They expecting us to sneak past without losing a single person."

"Ugh, such expectations, passing up a good fight…" Gilbert muttered, tapping one of the pieces of glass that kept him from touching a gauge. "And Yao? God, from what I've been hearing, he's been super busy lately…lucky bastard."

"Ah, don't worry, I'm sure they'll send us out more often if we prove ourselves or something like that," Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "Guh, London's gonna be a bit trickier too since it doesn't have a height restriction for buildings," Alfred then sighed, shaking his head. "I don't exactly feel like flying low over buildings."

"We don't have to fly low," Gilbert pointed out and Alfred huffed.

"I just have a feeling that we'll be flying low."

Matthew and Kiku were currently avoiding the sun by sitting in the shade of their F-15 and 16. Yes, it was beautiful out, but it was burning hot, Kiku wasn't exactly known for tolerating the sun well. "So, how is Alfred faring with the fact that he might have to attack Arthur? I think they had some sort of 'special relationship' if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Matthew sighed, wiping sweat off of his forehead. "God it's hot—he's kind of acting like it's no big deal though when it's obviously bugging him a bit," he continued, glancing up at the bright blue sky. "Though he did say that he'd shoot at Arthur too if he really had to and vice versa from what I'm hearing."

"Yeah, I see," Kiku mulled, nodding his head before closing his eyes. "I'm not sure what would happen if England and France won the war, but for some reason, I really don't want them to. And…" he sighed. "I think my answer's the same as Alfred's. I'll shoot, but only if I really have to."

"That seems to be everyone's decision," Matthew smiled as he side-glanced at his Japanese friend. Kiku returned the gesture and shook his head with a breathy chuckle.

"Hey Mattie!" Alfred called from afar. Matthew looked up and caught the sight of Alfred sitting on the nose of his plane like it was his steed (and I kind of was). "When're we leaving? It's getting kinda boring over here!" he continued, waving a hand in the air as if Matthew hadn't already spotted him.

Matthew grunted and turned around so he wouldn't have to crane his neck any further. "I don't know Al, ask Toris, he's more likely to know than I am," Matthew replied. He really should know when they'd be leaving, but he really couldn't pull an answer from his brain at the moment. It was too hot to overthink and apparently, at their current moment, thinking about when they were due to takeoff was overthinking.

"M'kay Mattie, one minute Gilbort, I'll go chat with Toris," Alfred slid off of the nose of this plane and fell onto the ground with a grunt. It kind of was a kind of a drop, for Kiku, Lovino and Feliciano that was, but for Alfred, Matthew and Gilbert, it wasn't much since they were all rather tall (1). He then bound off in search for his childhood friend.

Lovino huffed as he inspected the canopy to his F-16 out of pure boredom. At the current moment, he was on the verge of taking a siesta, but was fussing over what he'd be having for dinner once they returned to base. He really wanted pasta, but they rarely made Italian food back at the mess mainly because at the current moment, Italy was supporting France. What bull shit. "Fucking bastards…"

"What're you mad about now Lovino?" Feliciano asked, smiling at him with his large brown eyes, that one stubborn curl, much like Matthew's and Lovino's, fluttering around in the currently nonexistent wind.

"They won't make Italian…" he muttered darkly, looking down at the G-force gauge on the instrument panel. "And just because Italy's supporting France. Talk about a bull shit excuse," he continued. He was so bored that he wanted to kick a heel into the instrument panel, but that obviously wasn't a good idea, so he restrained himself.

"Well we can still request Italian right?" Feliciano asked, smiling as he hung his arms over the edge of the open cockpit of the F-15 he had been issued. "When we get back after this, we can immediately ask for pasta for dinner!"

"Fuck pasta. I want something with lots of tomatoes in it," Lovino scoffed, sitting up straight in his seat. "Maybe something Spanish? Spain's neutral at the moment and they made a really good dish a couple of weeks ago."

"I still want pasta, can we ask for pasta? I'll ask for pasta, you can ask for your Spain food," Feliciano grinned almost triumphantly at his solution.

"Fine," Lovino muttered. He looked over just as Alfred came bounding over to Gilbert, jumping up into his plane once more and sliding onto the nose. He was grinning proudly at his plane as he and Gilbert spoke. "Damn bastards, able to find something interesting to talk about…all we're talking about is food. I mean, I do like food, but I wanna talk about some more interesting shit…"

"Yao's leading 400 over some airfields," Feliciano announced, voice matter of fact.

"Yes, I already know that, God," Lovino huffed, waving a hand in the air carelessly. "400's really good though from what I hear. I mean, we've already worked with them a few times and obviously they're at the top of their fucking game…even though we don't really touch on the topic, we're losing a shit load of fuckers."

"That's not a nice thing to call them…" Feliciano muttered and Lovino glared at his twin. Even though he acted cold hearted towards his sibling, Lovino was actually pretty attached to Feliciano.

After a bit of boring chatting and a bit of messing with Lovino's F-16, it was about time Toris came jogging out, announcing that they should be leaving pretty soon. Alfred perked up immediately and gave his friend a thumb up before climbing into the open cockpit from the nose of his fighter. Gilbert was already seated in the cockpit to his like Lovino and Feliciano and they started them up just as Kiku and Matthew got themselves settled.

Toris walked a bit from them and off to the side, all six of the pilots waiting for the a-ok from Toris. Eventually, he gave them the signal and a bit at a time, they took off, Toris watching them with a smile. He waved at them even though they couldn't see the action. "Stay safe guys!"

"Alright 205, to England!"

They eventually found themselves weaving around a dogfight that they had assumed was ten miles to the north. "_Jones! What are you doing here_?"

"Whoa! Cool down Wang-Man, I just thought you guys were a few miles to the north, not here!" Alfred defended, pulling off to the side as two planes exploded by, smoke billowing from one. "Okay guys, don't attack _anything_! This isn't out job!" he then instructed and Gilbert pouted on his radio.

"_Not cool…they expect me to pass up a good fight?"_ he muttered and Alfred grinned.

"Yes. Yes they do Gilbort."

_"Fuck off_."

"Whatever you say, just start dropping bombs and shooting missiles when you see the Big Ben," Alfred shrugged his shoulders, thrusting the throttle lever so that his plane would move faster. The F-15 was faster than any of the planes out in the field at the moment.

"_There's a little more to it than just that Al…"_ Matthew pointed out, his voice a slight deadpan.

"Don't worry Mattie, I know!"

They ended up having to waste a few missiles on some Eurofighters and Tornado's, but eventually they managed to shake them and head for London. They weren't confronted for a few minutes before the city came into view in the distance—that was when the RAF decided to show up once more.

"_Alright, I'm totally rarin' to go, come on fuckers, let's dance! Let me at 'em Alfred, let me at 'em! _Please_ tell me I can go at 'em!"_ Gilbert began chanting excitedly, already pulling off to the side and out of the formation.

"Gilbert, I told you to be patient!" Alfred huffed moodily. "Stay in formation."

"_Fuck the formation, we're gonna have to break it anyways! I'm goin'!" _and the F-15 Gilbert piloted broke completely off of the formation, boosting ahead, head-on onto a Eurofighter.

"Gah, that guy's going to get himself killed guys," Alfred muttered, but was forced to pull off to the side just in time to avoid a Tornado. "Just remember your job guys!"

"_Hai. I will Alfred."_

_ "Yup. I already know what to do."_

_ "Fuck the job! I'm going to join Gilbert!"_

_ "Ve~! Sure thing~!"_

Like Gilbert had said, their formation had broken up rather quickly as the rest of whatever squadron the RAF had sent after them. Alfred spotted a rather familiar looking bull over a yellow circle and immediately headed in their direction. For some reason, seeing a familiar enemy plane made it a load more of fun. But at the moment, it wasn't so fun. They were rather low to the ground and had made it to central London rather quickly. Gilbert didn't bother with aiming and had already dropped about half of his load, the slob.

"Dammit!" Alfred hissed, he was being denied the ability to dive, for it was far too dangerous to perform such a feat just at the tops of the skyscrapers. The tallest building in London was over seven hundred feet, thirty feet shy of eight hundred (2). They were flying at fifteen hundred feet and Alfred was clearly out of his comfort zone. It must've been a terrifying sight too, from the ground that was. The streets were already cleared even though it was midday, the busiest time in almost any city, and that had its own eerie effect.

"_Al, you've got one at five 'o' clock, can you handle it?"_ Matthew warned and Alfred refused the urge to turn to look over his shoulder, he was running too many risks already.

"No can do Mattie, it'd be great if you could shoot 'em down for me."

_"Alright Al, I'll do that."_

"Thanks Mattie," Alfred grinned and continued to tail the Eurofighter that continued to lose altitude, and even though he'd deny it in the future, this was scaring the shit out of Alfred. "This guy's being a real dick…" he muttered and sped up, thumb hovering over the launch. The right time approached and he shot. Unfortunately…the missile was outmaneuvered and collided into a building with many glass windows, blowing up. Almost all of the windows shattered and Alfred had to pull up, taking the steepest climb he could so he wouldn't have to witness people dying and surviving nonetheless. He didn't know whether there were people in there in the first place, but it was likely. The shattering of the glass was spectacular though, dare he say.

He was pretty high up before he had to dive back down when Matthew started asking for his location. "Sorry bud, just don't like flying like this," Alfred muttered, hoping Matthew didn't catch wind that he was scared of dogfighting in the middle of a densely populated city. Another Eurofighter passed by and he gave chase, trying to take his mind off of the people he might've killed.

The RAF pilot pulled into a counter maneuver just as a flaming F-15 flew by, crashing into a rather iconic looking Ferris wheel. Alfred barely registered that he had a missile chasing after him. After a bit of dizzying moves, Alfred managed to get behind the RAF pilot once more, catching a glimpse of the text on the nose of the plane, large and bold—a bright white color and easily readable.

Arthur Kirkland (Angleterre).

Alfred almost crashed into a building himself with how shocked he was. This was kind of early, in his opinion that was. "Arthur?"

"_Is Arthur out here?"_ Matthew questioned, sounding nervous.

"Uh…maybe," Alfred muttered and returned to chasing the Eurofighter that was very likely, Arthur's. He did have plenty of wonderful moments to shoot a missile, but he had now found it extremely difficult to do so, his hand just refused to listen to him. He forced himself to shoot one though, just tailing Arthur wasn't a good idea. His heartbeat sped up when he noticed that the pilot had decided to outmaneuver the weapon instead of shooting a flare, leading the missile straight into another building that was already half-annihilated from another F-16 crashing into it.

Licking his lips, Alfred shot another missile shakily. Arthur seemed to be daring him to shoot all the missiles he could at him with how Arthur was basically vulnerable the whole time Alfred had been chasing him. "_Alfred watch out!_" Matthew cried and Alfred immediately dove down, swearing at his automatic decision just as a Tornado exploded by, faster than any Eurofighter Alfred had seen. Tornadoes were faster than Eurofighters like Arthur had said.

It slowed a fraction, forcing Alfred to roll out of the way and get a good albeit brief glimpse at the pilot's face—what he could see of it with the helmet and all. "Holy shit Gilbert! I think we have Ludwig out here!"

"_Wait, what?"_ Gilbert barked.

"_L-Ludwig's out here…?" _ Feliciano stuttered nervously and Alfred nodded his head automatically.

"Hell yeah!" Alfred grunted and soon found himself sandwiched in between a Eurofighter and a Tornado, him chasing Arthur whilst who he assumed was Ludwig chased after him. "And somebody help me out here! Gilbert, now would be a good time to be awesome!"

"_I'm coming dammit!"_ Gilbert snapped, having become irritable likely about the fact that he was now facing his brother on the battlefield, likely torn in between shooting a missile at him and letting his get away. Much like Alfred was feeling right now as he watched the Eurofighter that Arthur was operating pull another counter maneuver. Alfred swore and covered his head with one arm as he felt his plane quiver slightly in a brief, almost literal rain of bullets. He wondered if Arthur knew it was him.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows when the F-15 he had just gotten a few bullets in out flew him with its speed factor. "Bloody hell that thing's fast," he muttered to himself, forcing his plane to move faster and gain altitude as the F-15 flew up into the sky, easily getting away from Arthur. "Damn," he huffed, taking the risk and cutting the chase, turning off to the side. "Those F-15's are pretty bloody fast Ludwig, we'll never catch them."

"_Not much to say. I have a problem of my own and I think it's Gilbert_."

"Gilbert? Your brother?"

"_Yeah. I'm definite that this is Alfred's squadron—I think it was 205. I first assumed it when I saw 'AWESOME' and 'THE HERO' painted in rather obnoxious colors on the side of their planes,_" Ludwig grunted. Arthur seemed a bit shocked and briefly zoned out. He never really paid attention to the little designs and words people painted onto their planes for fun, for he had a job to do whenever he was up in the air. The only one's he'd noticed was his own since he'd painted it on, and Francis's obnoxiously bright red rose. A bit later, when his squadron, 360, had went to be based in France for a brief moment, Francis had managed to find some open time when Arthur was absent to paint 'Angleterre' in parenthesis and in curly, white lettering. He had thrown a rather huge fit when he saw it.

Snapping back to the task at hand, Arthur searched his surroundings for any USAF pilots. They were assuming there were no RCAF pilots with how run down Canada had become with their hugely bold move not a few months ago. But that didn't mean the Canadian's were out, they were likely just recuperating and getting ready to hit either England or France hard. Likely France (3).

He then realized that the F-15 he'd been chasing could've been Alfred, Matthew, Feliciano or Gilbert, for Alfred had told him that they were the ones that had the F-15's. He was fine with hitting Gilbert, for he was a dick according to Ludwig, but everyone else was a no. He suddenly found it harder to believe that he'd mindlessly shot at one of his friends. Probably that is, he didn't know yet. He'd have to write a letter to Alfred as soon as possible. They hadn't seen each other in a while either, so maybe he'd ask for a photo…

…No Arthur, focus. You're…you're being chased by a bloody missile!

"Gah!" Arthur squawked, tugging the Eurofighter violently to the side and running the risk of blacking out from the G's he had abruptly put onto himself with little preparation. After managing to shake the missile, he passed another F-15 that decided that it'd chase him. "Bloody wanker…" he muttered darkly to himself before diving, the USAF pilot following.

They weaved through the buildings, a few windows rattling from the force the planes created just by moving, though Arthur didn't know that. He continued to let himself be chased before bringing his plane even lower to the ground. He was losing speed by doing so, but the USAF pilot seemed too nervous to continue and just continued to fly above him, shooting a missile instead. Arthur then sped up and used the Eurofighter's ability to climb almost completely vertically, avoiding being blown up. The missile blew up a passing F-16 instead.

The F-15 that had been chasing him and had just shot the missile climbed past him, though not at such a dizzying eighty five degree angle. This time, Arthur got a good glimpse at 'THE HERO' which was painted in large, bold letters on the side of the American plane and he also got a good glimpse at Alfred's face. Although it was mostly covered by a helmet, a few strands of hair peeked out, especially that one cowlick Arthur used to always fuss over when they were young kids.

It'd been a while since Arthur last saw Alfred, and he now desired to see him without the helmet on. He briefly smiled before reminding himself that Alfred was, at the moment, his foe. Forcing the smile down, Arthur leveled his plane and immediately engaged in a rather dizzying tangle with Alfred, the two of them weaving around each other and getting very little open spaces to shoot missiles. They almost collided at one point.

For some reason, Arthur didn't feel like he was fighting against Alfred. It kind of felt like one of those competitions he and Alfred had on the playground back when they were in elementary school. Well…that was until Alfred managed to find a good time to fire a missile that Arthur had to avoid, shooting flares just to be safe. An F-16 flew by, leaving them open and Arthur took the chance to shoot a missile at them just before averting his attention back to Alfred.

Lovino cussed loudly when his plane rattled violently before tilting to the right, dangerously off balance now that it was lacking full function and some pieces to its right wing. "Goddammit!" Lovino wailed, pounding a fist on the side of the cockpit as if it would fix the machine. It always seemed to work on the television. He was falling fast.

"_Bail out Lovino!"_ Alfred demanded, voice stern. How he had managed to lose Arthur so quickly baffled Lovino slightly, but he scoffed at Alfred's order.

"No! I can do this, just you watch bastard!" he growled, forcing his plane to level only to slide to the left and dip even further.

_"Bail out!"_

"Fine!" and he did so, closing his eyes as he was ejected out of his plane just as the machine threw itself into a tight spin, smashing into one of the sides of the Tower Bridge. He was panting from the adrenaline rush and finally opened his eyes, the screech of fighter jets tearing at his ears. Covering them, Lovino had deployed his parachute without even noticing and was now watching planes, USAF and RAF, exploding past him, missiles blowing up every here and there. The sight was phenomenal, but he was now going to become a prisoner of war wasn't he? He grit his teeth at the idea and let a hand uncover his ear so he could slam a fist into his hip since there really was nothing else to hit. "No! Dammit!"

Feliciano shot down the his fifth enemy and cheered happily. "Yaay! Lovino, did you see that? I got a fifth guy~!" he happily chimed before falling silent, awaiting his twin's reply. Blinking, he tilted his head to the side. "Lovino? Hey Lovinooo~" he grinned. "Are you listening to me?"

Lovino always answered whether he was apathetic or extremely pissed off. Lovino always answered. Lovino…wasn't answering. "Lovino? A-Alfred, is Lovino angry?"

"_Feli…Lovino isn't coming home_," was Alfred's rather morbid sounding answer. "_I-I mean, he's not dead…but he bailed out. He had to bail out or he _would_ be dead. Feliciano, Lovino's not…"_

"W-wait! We were going to request some pasta and Spanish for dinner when we got back!" Feliciano whined, glancing around frantically, only able to see jets flying about and a few buildings that were on the verge of either caving in or tipping over. The London Eye wasn't faring so well and neither was the north side of the Tower Bridge. Alfred didn't answer and Feliciano was forced back into the dogfight over London he was engaged in.

Alfred now felt extremely guilty for having to break it to Feliciano. It wasn't fun having to tell someone that they'd just lost their sibling to the enemy. He shot down the Tornado he'd been chasing and glanced over his shoulder to avoid a missile, rereading the text on Arthur's plane as he did so. It was already memorized for it was something very easy to remember, but Alfred couldn't help but do so before returning to the combat he was tangled in, currently being tailed by Arthur. He wondered how Gilbert was doing. "Gilbert, you still fighting Ludwig?"

_"Hell yeah, and having the fucking time of my LIFE! Who knew he was such a good pilot? I gotta invade London a bit more eh? Hey, what's with the voice? Did you just shoot down Arthur? Come on, you'd have to admit, the guy kinda had it coming—"_

"No, no Gilbert," Alfred grunted, a bit irritated at the latter of Gilbert's answer. "I—Lovino's been shot down. He's probably on the ground now and it's not likely we'll be seeing him any time soon," he sighed.

"_Quit the talk! I gotta focus, later!"_ Gilbert demanded and Alfred huffed.

III

Feliciano sniffed, legs dangling over the edge of the carrier they were parked at. He didn't care how close he was to the edge now, normally they'd stay away from it so they wouldn't accidentally fall of had risk the embarrassment of having to be fished out, but at the moment, he couldn't really bring himself to care. He already wanted his twin sitting next to him, cussing his ass off about dinner or lunch. He never complained about breakfast for some reason. Feliciano already felt empty even though Lovino had been gone for just a few hours' tops.

Sniffing again, he wiped more tears from his watering eyes and looked over his shoulder when he heard footsteps approaching form behind. "Hey Feli…"

"Alfred…" he sniffed, feeling a rare bubble of anger building up in what felt like his stomach.

"Come on, you're too close to the edge, come sit over here at least…" Alfred tried, though he didn't sit down himself. Feliciano refused to budge and stubbornly turned his head so that he was looking at the waves the carrier was creating below. The sun had set not too long ago, so there wasn't all that much light. The moon was beautiful though.

Feliciano looked up once more when Alfred seated himself next to the Italian, giving him a concerned look. "How could you…?" when Alfred didn't answer, Feliciano decided that it was a sign that Alfred was willing to take whatever Feliciano had to throw at him. "How could you?" he wailed, pounding a fist onto the floor of the carrier. "You let Lovino, you let—how, you…!" he could no longer create sentences as tears spilled from his eyes. He clearly had sensitive emotions and it showed all of the time.

"I did all I could Feli…" Alfred muttered, reaching out to pull his friend into a hug when the Italian stubbornly slapped his hand away.

"No! I want Lovino back!" Feliciano cried. He glared up uncharacteristically when someone approached them. Gilbert's red eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he quietly told Alfred that he'd take care of this and soon, Alfred stood up, glanced at Feliciano in concern and then left as Gilbert replaced the American.

"M'kay. You may start," Gilbert said.

"I want Lovino back…" Feliciano meant for that to be sterner like just a few seconds ago, but his voice faltered dangerously and immediately went silent as his shoulders slumped, sorrow taking over the anger. He couldn't stay angry at anyone for long. "I want Lovino to come home with me…" he sobbed. Just hours before, they were talking about going home and requesting food they were craving for dinner and it seems it had turned around to show Feliciano that no, not everyone was going to come home every mission. Told him to stop being so carefree about it and take it a bit more seriously. "What if I never see Lovino again? What if he's dead? I don't want Lovino to be dead!"

Kiku approached the scene, Feliciano sobbing into his hands as Gilbert offered support, looking slightly awkward with the situation he'd taken over, but also managing to look completely comfortable. The Japanese pilot seated himself on the other side of Feliciano and since they were better friends, was able to easily pull the Italian pilot into an embrace.

III

"Alright 205, only bases today, no further into this place then thirty miles, got it? Well…that's what the big guys up top said, but yeah," Alfred explained as they flew over the ocean. They were scheduled to go back to England on the eleventh, the next day and just mess up a few airfields, bases, etc. "Alright Kiku, you're watching Feli."

"_Hai. I will protect him with everything I've got_."

"_Aw, that's so nice of you Kiku!"_

_ "Shut up Gilbert," _came Matthew's reply in a hilarious deadpan. Sometimes he was just a really funny guy at strange times like this. Either that, or Alfred was humored easily. There was a bit of a back and forth conversation in between Matthew and Gilbert before it was cut off by a desperate warning from said Canadian. "_Whoa! Guys, up, up! They're above us! Look up!_"

Alfred had to pull off to the side to avoid Matthew's aircraft as it dove to the right, running the risk of running into him. The American was about to banter on about what had just happened to Matthew when three Eurofighters dove past him, all going after Matthew. Their formation was immediately broken when quite a few more Tornado's and Eurofighters dove by, the occasional Mirage F1 and 2000 in the midst of it all. "Holy shit there's a lot of them!"

"_I know! This is awesome!"_

"This is _not_ awesome Gilbert, you dummy!" Alfred cried as he flipped the visor down, the sun especially bright today. Seemingly. "Now let's pick up the pace if we don't want to lose another one of us!"

**XXXX**

**(1) Alfred, Matthew and Gilbert being tall – I actually have no idea how tall Gilbert is compared to everyone else, so just hang tight with me…^^;**

**(2) Seven hundred seventy feet tall – For my non-American readers, that's 235 meters…^^; Well, it's actually 771, but I'm rounding numbers…**

**(3) Canada recuperating to hit England or France hard, it likely being France – Why, oh why does that sound so perverted?**

** Lol, started writing this and…then I started watching nuclear bombs being detonated on YouTube (specifically the Baker bomb…), and then I was like "Wait! Why the hell am I watching **_**this**_**? I've got a chapter to type out!" Lol, you actually can't really see the pilots in fighter planes during dogfights with how fast you're moving, but I'm doing this just so it help the story out. **

** Yup. Arthur was the one that got Lovino by the way. And yup, I had that planned for poor Lovino. I'm like, "I'm sorry Lovi, but I'm going to have to shoot youuu… ;A;"**

** So yeah. Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: ****Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I love blowing shit up on Ace Combat…Lol, so whenever I want to play it, I'm like "Alright mom/dad, I'm gonna blow some shit up." and when I unlocked the Mitsubishi A6M Reisen (one of the planes the Japanese used to bomb Pearl Harbor) I was like: -w- "That's legit." Oh God, I say that so much as I play that game. I just say 'That's legit' a lot and I think my family members are getting annoyed…I love using the Eurofighter in that game too…it's my most used plane I'm sure.**

**XXXX**

_Alfred,_

_ That was you out there over London on the tenth wasn't it? Well, I guess I could say that it was…exhilarating from some reason. I had a pretty good time fighting you, though I can't really call it fighting since it didn't feel like we were doing so. More like one of those old competitions we used to have. Maybe that's why it was so much fun. I could definitely tell that that plane was yours with those large, annoying bright letters sitting there for the whole world to see. Along with Gilbert, I could tell that was Gilbert. Francis got the Angleterre on my plane just in case you were curious, damn frog. Angleterre means England in French. I also think I saw Matthew out there too. The one with the red maple leaf that you very likely painted sloppily onto Matthew's plane? He's a fierce fighter, I was surprised he was able to stay on Roderich's tail for such a long time. _

_ I know it hasn't been an immensely large amount of time since I last sent you a letter, but how are you doing? Life's been a hectic pain over here with all of the raids on London and on the outskirts and I heard that it was even worse in France. The RCAF completely annihilated our ports not too long ago and now supplies are becoming hard to come by…I've been pretty busy to sum it up. Francis complains to me via letters and phone calls (though I try to ignore the latter), so I get even more insight o the situation just over the Channel. I really can't come up with anything else to write about, so hopefully you'll reply. For some reason, I want you to make your response as long as possible. _

_ Arthur Kirkland._

III

Arthur sighed and glanced up at what was now a heavily damaged Eiffel Tower. Ever since a bad raid on their base on the eleventh, following the day he 'fought' against Alfred, they were to be stationed in Paris for the time being mainly because the US and Canada had most of their sights focused on France at the moment. The day the craters in the runway had been fixed, they were sent off without a second thought.

The normally busy City of Lights was at the moment, rather quiet. A few people here and there, going to what stores still remained while everything else was basically in shambles. They were planning a large scale attack on the eastern coast of America. They wouldn't go very deep, but just enough to render quite a few bases grounded for a while. Well, that's what they hoped. Just enough to make the US stop to take a breather. It was considered large scale mainly because of how densely populated the eastern coast was. They were also planning on downing a few cities in hopes of weakening their morale. Actually, Arthur didn't know the real reason. All he knew was that his squadron was planned to go to New York City. The thought of dogfighting in such a tightly packed place, building wise, was a nightmare.

"God, this place is taking quite the beating," Arthur sighed, looking around to see a few more people outside. He wondered where the rest of the population was. Quite a few were probably at air fields or in POW camps in America or Canada. Or dead. He'd heard that quite a few Parisians had enlisted in the Armée de l'Air.

"Angleterre! What are you doing here?" a familiar voice chimed happily behind him and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"My name's Arthur, not England," he then deadpanned and Francis tugged him closer by slinging an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "And I was stationed here because of a bad raid on the eleventh. We aren't exactly expected to go back any time soon since they thought that we needed to protect this place more than our own."

"That isn't the smartest, but I get what they're trying to do," Francis grinned as Arthur shoved his arm off of his shoulders.

"I don't see what they're trying to do. Enlighten me."

"Well, I'm assuming America and Canada are trying to single England out by eliminating France. You know why? Because they're not physically connected to anything, so they're basically stranded. Kind of like the stranded island thing, you have so much until you run out of it," Francis explained and Arthur grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

"People can still fly out…" he muttered.

"Yeah, but they'll get shot down likely. And plus, we're too worried about commercial flight, haven't you noticed or even heard that all commercial flights to, from and over America, Canada, England and France have been grounded until the war ends or there's a cease-fire? I mean, yeah, you can fly in between America and Canada much like you can from England to France, but that's basically it. It's kind of like a uh…isolated war or something," Francis shrugged his shoulders. "Oh hey did you hear? We have the support of Italy and Germany."

"Yeah, and the US has the support of Japan, Korea and quite a few of the former satellite countries," Arthur scoffed. "We're done for if we don't do something drastic…like what's planned to go down in just a few days. Say, where are you planned on going? During the attack on the east coast?"

Francis hummed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think I heard something about Florida or Georgia. I don't know, somewhere down south," he then shrugged his shoulders and Arthur nodded his head. "Oh hey, and I heard that we even have support from Russia."

"Really? Why is that?" Arthur asked, genuinely curious.

"Well…it's America we're fighting so…yeah," Francis grinned and Arthur immediately understood what the Frenchman meant. America and Russia still didn't really like each other. "So where's your squadron planned on going?"

"New York City specifically," Arthur announced and Francis hummed once more.

"That's going to be a nightmare."

"Yes, indeed it will," the British pilot sighed before changing the subject. "Do you think this war will ever end?"

"Maybe. I can see it, but I can't predict when it will happen. All I'm hoping is that they don't drop a nuclear bomb on us," Francis shrugged his shoulders as if it was no big deal and Arthur shuddered at the idea. Yeah, England and France had their own nuclear power, but America had so much that it was frightening.

"Let's hope they don't. I'm assuming it'll be their last resort," Arthur shook his head. He didn't exactly want to think about being nuked. Well, nobody did.

Francis looked over his shoulder abruptly and Arthur snapped to attention as well, immediately picking up the sound of a failing plane. They ducked their heads down as a Mirage F1 flew by, engulfed in smoke before crashing into a building in the next street. The two immediately braced themselves for the loud noises of low altitude aerial combat.

Five USAF and six RCAF planes flew overhead, a few ALA planes flying in the opposite direction to meet them. Missiles flew everywhere and smashed into the streets and the buildings below, coming too close for comfort in Arthur's opinion. He wanted to take cover, but witnessing a low altitude dogfight was mesmerizing. Missiles streaked across the sky, creating trails of smoke as planes created vapor trails of their own. The noise was deafening, but something that kept you hooked on what was going on. It gave Arthur goose bumps as his green eyes followed planes breaking the sound barrier like an important news report.

He snapped out of his stupor when Francis grabbed his wrist and urged Arthur to take cover, the two of them bolting for the nearest shelter. They ended up in an underground subway station, the sounds of exploding missiles and bombs echoing in the open area, making them sound much louder than they actually were. It all lasted for about seven more minutes when it all suddenly stopped and the two of them stepped out. There were a few more craters that were going to be filled up in a few hours and quite a few more buildings were totaled.

Looking up at the sky, Arthur remembered how short these things lasted. One minute, there's up to twenty planes duking it out over your head, missiles screeching everywhere and the occasional gunfire and the next, it's all done, the only thing signaling that it'd actually happened in the sky was the enormous amount of vapor trails left and the very distant sound of retreating air craft.

"Whoo, what a rush," Francis sighed, raking a hand through his wavy blond hair and furrowing his eyebrows when he found a few tangles. "These just come and go like fog."

"Yeah, just that there's a bit more evidence that it was here," Arthur remarked and Francis stuck out his tongue. "But yeah, it's amazing how long these really last. When you're actually up there, it feels like hours, but in reality, it could've just been a few minutes."

"Mm hm," Francis nodded his head in agreement before looking up at the sky once more. "…I don't really think much will survive the war," he then stated and Arthur looked at him in slight confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, with all of these attacks, I really do doubt it. I mean, look at that thing," he motioned towards the Eiffel Tower. "It looks like it's going to tip any second. And I doubt London's any better. I heard the London Eye had just collapsed."

"Yeah well…I can't help but hope these'll last," he sighed. "Paris wouldn't really feel like Paris without that huge thing invading the scenery," Arthur continued. It was slightly true though, yeah Paris had the Arc de Triomphe and the Catacombs, but the Eiffel Tower was what took the cake. Even though everyone hated it when it was first constructed.

Francis chuckled, "yeah, that crazy hope that the protagonist of military history books will live."

"I know what you mean," Arthur nodded his head. Those who had been out just before the raid began to emerge and eventually returned to doing what they were doing in hopes of getting it done before their destination was completely annihilated. "I'm going back to base," Arthur then sighed. He didn't feel like hanging around Paris anymore. The only thing to see now was complete and utter destruction of an iconic city. London was likely to follow. He wondered how Washington DC and Ottawa were doing. He'd heard that Ottawa had gone with most of eastern Canada on that bold, month long attack and that DC was slowly crumbling with how their attacks were escalating on the North American superpower.

"Okay, I'll be seeing you soon hopefully," Francis grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes. How Francis could stay himself was a wonder to him.

III

Antonio looked up when Arthur walked into their living quarters, throwing himself heavily onto the bed that he'd claimed. Propping himself up on his elbows, Antonio shifted his attention from the crack in the wall to the Briton. "Stressed?"

"Just very tired," Arthur sighed without moving. Antonio hummed and then sat up, crossing his legs.

"How so? Were you there when that attack just happened not too long ago? The USAF tried to get our base again. It's like they're trying to kill specifically us," Antonio joked before getting serious. "I've been thinking about it lately…what's your opinion on the attack on America that we're planning for the thirteenth?" he asked, leaning forward in interest.

Arthur took a brief moment to think over it. "I don't really know what to think of it to be truthful," he finally answered. "It'll either work in setting America back for a crucial day or two or it'd backfire epically and we'll be completely annihilated. All I'm thinking is that this war is getting nowhere fast."

III

The next two days were spent watching dogfights in Paris and getting prepared for the attack on the east coast of America. The third, they spent most of their morning on a carrier before taking off for their designated locations. They were to meet bombers about halfway and hopefully, they'd be able to worm past a few dogfights that would've been started before they got there.

"Alright 360, hopefully we'll be able to get to New York with 373 and 27 squadrons keeping coastal defenders busy," Arthur said into his radio. "Don't bother with the dogfights unless you're threatened and need to defend yourself. We can't afford to lose people before we even get there."

"_Roger that,"_ Antonio replied and Arthur could just hear the grin in the other's voice, so he rolled his eyes. "_Oh, and how low do you think we'll be fighting?"_

"Pretty low I'm assuming," Arthur sighed. "It's going to be a real maze with how fast well be moving, so please be careful guys," he continued and Antonio made a sound of confirmation before speaking to him in Spanish about World War One era planes.

They ended up avoiding the two dogfights that 373 and 27 squadrons had stirred up in southern New York and Connecticut, able to snake past them and further into New York with only one loss so far out of thirty six. They could now see the tall buildings of New York in the not too far distance and Arthur's heartbeat quickened in anticipation. "There it is…"

"_And there _they_ are,"_ came Roderich's thick Austrian accent. Quite a few USAF planes were headed their way, ready to meet them over the city.

"Alright guys, break formation when necessary," Arthur instructed and not much time passed when they were forced to break it to avoid collision. Arthur almost steered himself into a building in the process, tugging his plane sharply in the opposite direction of the building he'd almost hit to avoid any damage. He immediately followed an F-16.

He and Francis were right, dogfighting just over New York was a nightmare. Buildings were a real pain to weave around and made getting a good shot at his opponent a real task. Eventually though, he did find a good shot and fired a missile. Much to Arthur's frustration, the USAF pilot spun out of its way, the projectile leading itself into a building and erupting.

Arthur continued to tail the F-16 and got another good shot only to have them avoid it again, this time the missile smashing into one of New York's iconic large screens, sparks exploding from the thing and immediately shutting it down. He couldn't help but find it rather spectacular before Arthur reminded himself that it was destruction and returned to the task at hand.

Whoever he was chasing was a rather slippery maneuverer and was able to outmaneuver everything Arthur was able to throw at them at the current moment. "I could use some help here!" he growled in frustration into the radio and it took a moment for someone to reply.

"_I'm on it,_" it was Ludwig. The guy always seemed to be there at the most convenient of times. A Tornado then whizzed by and Arthur sighed in relief. He didn't really feel like chasing this guy much longer, so he hoped Ludwig was able to help him eliminate the USAF pilot quickly. Arthur was used to shooting and hitting his mark before pulling away to go after another target.

The USAF pilot was able to avoid the both of them, making Arthur frustrated once more. They were pretty good and was likely considered an ace back at their squadron, but that was all to end when Arthur and Ludwig fired both of their missiles at similar times. The pilot managed to dodge Ludwig's, but Arthur's hit it's mark and the F-16 flipped out of control.

"Thanks Ludwig," Arthur thanked and Ludwig's Tornado pulled away from his Eurofighter to confront a different opponent. Arthur then began chasing another F-16, hoping that this pilot wasn't as slippery as the one he'd just double-teamed on with Ludwig. They weren't as flexible, but their twenty mile per hour advantage was allowing them to slowly pull away from Arthur. Licking his lips, Arthur took the chance and shot another missile, managing to get their hind wing. The F-16 started teetering back and forth unsafely. "That'll keep ya from escaping…"

He shot a missile and got the guy full on in the rear this time, making them tilt off to the side and collide with a building, the glass around it shattering simultaneously.

He grinned triumphantly as he turned around another skyscraper. "_Arthur, you've got someone on your tail_," came Ludwig's warning and Arthur frantically looked over his shoulder before tugging his plane off to the side, just in time to avoid getting blown up by a missile that had been sent by an F-15. Arthur knew he couldn't get away from the F-15, but he knew he had a nice chance of outmaneuvering them.

The tangle he threw his plane into to get behind the USAF pilot was dizzying, but eventually, Arthur was able to accomplish getting behind them. He shot a missile and got their left wing, forcing the plane to tilt to one side unsafely before the pilot lot all control over the aircraft and crashed into the empty streets below. Much like the attack on London, the streets of New York City had been cleared rather quickly. Cars were still all over the street, though Arthur doubted that anyone was actually in them.

The one thing he loved about the Eurofighter that wasn't its supreme mobility was the technology. One example was that the target identification was reflected into the visor of his helmet. That was one of his favorites, it was like a dogfighting video game he and Alfred used to always play when they were young and when Arthur lived in America.

He pulled off to the side when he saw that Antonio was being double teamed on by two F-16's. "_Ugh, these guys are so unfair_!" Arthur was surprised that Antonio took the time to complain to him even though he had missiles being shot at him. "_Arthur, mi amigo, shoot 'em down for me_!" he then requested and Arthur grunted.

"All's fair when it comes to war. And yeah, I'm on it," Arthur sighed, shaking his head before speeding ahead, managing to get on the USAF's pilot's tail easily and shooting a missile. They managed to avoid it though even though they were pretty close to each other. He didn't want to be moving at full speed with the tight space he was flying in at the moment, but the F-16 was pulling away slowly, so Arthur pondered over what he'd do next.

"_Eyeeaahrgh! __¡__Arthur, necesitas ayuda! __¡__Ayuda me, ayuda me!_" Antonio wailed as he was being shot at, missiles and the occasional bullet alike.

"Calm down! I'm doing my best!" he replied just as he hit the F-16 he was chasing in the wing. The machine teetered back and forth violently as the pilot tried desperately to keep it level before deciding to bail out, though they were pretty low to the ground. Arthur stuck his tongue out and bit it lightly as he concentrated on the F-16 Antonio was failing to shake. The two of them were moving back and forth wildly, making it extremely hard to get a good shot at the F-16 without the risk of having a missile go for Antonio instead. "Antonio! Steady out just for a second, I can't get a good aim on him!"

"_Lo siento, I'm trying! I'm just scared about getting shot at if I do!_" Antonio replied.

"You'll get shot by me if you don't stop it!" Arthur barked and Antonio's Eurofighter stopped moving back and forth, the F-16 taking the precious moment to shoot a missile just as Arthur did. Antonio barely managed to roll out of the way of the missile while Arthur's hit their rear and huffing a small 'yes' to himself at his small victory. The F-16 pulled off to the side and retreated. Arthur considered following, but tossed the thought aside when he was forced to avoid a building.

"_Whew…gracias Arthur…I thought that I was a goner there, they just wouldn't leave,_" Antonio thanked.

"Ugh, yeah. It was no problem. And please use English, I prefer that over Spanish," Arthur sighed. He knew the current moment was a horrible time for small talk, but he just couldn't help but talk sometimes during dogfights. He did know Spanish and some vague French, but he preferred English over the two since it was his primary language.

The monitor began beeping, signaling that Arthur had a missile heading his direction and he sped up immediately. He tilted his plane to the side and the missile was led into the building he streaked past, it exploding and sending smoke outwards. "_Whoo! Nice one amigo! That really looks cool even though it's destruction!"_ Antonio whooped, having been behind him to tail the USAF pilot that had shot the missile at Arthur as if he were making up for Arthur helping him when he was getting double teamed just a moment ago. "_Alright, I'll get this guy for you. __¡__No es una problema, yo puedes hacer lo!" _Antonio continued.

The chaos continued and eventually, they were forced to pull away and high tail out of there due to how many bombers and fighters they were losing. They were to spend two days back in Paris before being sent off to America once more in a rotation like order, specific squadrons being sent on certain days to, hopefully, keep up their streak.

Once they returned, word about most of the east coast squadrons being put out from the attack had already reached France and England. If they went back tomorrow early enough, they'd be able to slowly run down the super power and since eastern Canada was currently out of business for a large chunk of time, hopefully, they'd win this war. Arthur realized that so far, this was a pure aerial battle too.

He and Antonio decided that they'd meet Francis on the runway and were currently, at the moment, were standing to the side in the grass. It was wonderful out and it made Arthur long for the conflict to end. He'd had this growing need to visit Alfred for some reason.

"There they are," Antonio grinned when he heard plane engines in the distance accompanied by small dots quite a ways away from them. Eventually, the dots got bigger and became more distinguishable as Dassault F1's, 2000's and Rafale's. Arthur's large eyebrows furrowed when he saw that seven planes were missing and eleven of the seventeen were smoking and a few even teetering literally in between losing control and staying level.

It wasn't long when the worst looking Dassault 2000 slipped to the side and crashed into the side of the runway, medics immediately rushing over to aid the downed pilot. An F1 was forced to belly land when it's undercarriage refused to come out, the sound of metal scraping on the concrete below making Arthur cringe. "Good God, what a disaster…" he muttered, facepalming as the rest of the planes landed with a bit of difficulty. "The south must've been rough on them."

The state 40 squadron had been officially assigned was Florida, so they ran the risk of diving into the ocean and drowning unless they bailed out only to become a prisoner of war.

Arthur glanced over at Francis's F1 that was currently slowing to a complete stop before the canopy lifted and Francis hung his arms over the edge with an over exaggerated sigh. The Frenchman flipped his visor up and waved at Arthur and Antonio who were currently approaching the French plane. "Well…I don't know what to say. I guess I can assume yours didn't go as smoothly as ours?" Arthur asked.

"It was mass chaos mon ami. More people crashed into the Atlantic than bailed out…so many people drowning, crashing into buildings and the beach…I just want to go to sleep," he complained, removing his helmet lazily. "Mon Dieu, it got so hot in the cockpit too…It's like the all of the USAF were there…"

"Well I guess that explains why we had it so easy," Arthur shrugged his shoulders and Francis began muttering about how lucky they were.

"So yours was a walk in the park…?"

"Well with the way you're making your sound, yeah, basically," Antonio grinned and Francis huffed. "So, anything else you can complain about?" Antonio asked, stealing the words right out of Arthur's mouth, for the Briton was about to ask the exact same thing.

Francis seemed to take a moment to seriously consider what he was going to complain about next before grinning at his two friends. "America's too populated…" Arthur rolled his eyes and instructed that Francis get out of his heavily damaged F1.

"Do you think your plane's good enough to go again in two days?" he asked. "It's kind of…beaten," Arthur muttered. One of the wings was badly damaged and Arthur had observed that one of the landing gears had refused to come out just before he came close to the runway, it finally coming down. The vertical tail was also looking slightly off.

"No. I think I might have to be issued a new plane," Francis muttered, looking at his plane with what looked like a sad look. "Poor gal. C'mon, let's go get something to drink, I'm just shot from that…" he sighed, turning to walk towards their living quarters. Antonio and Arthur followed, not exactly having anything else to do at the moment. A shot of alcohol didn't sound so bad either.

**XXXX**

** Mm. I meant to update yesterday, but fell asleep on it so yeah. Sorry if this chapter's kind of strange because I'm a fail when it comes to wars and stuff. I'm tired, I almost fell asleep on this one too and it's only nine…I feel so…something. Yaay, I just listed my favorite planes on my profile because I could. :3 I really love the Eurofighter for some reason. I don't know (and I think I already said that in the opening author's note). Okay. I have nothing else to talk about so yeah. Hope you liked it and review because I love to hear what you guys have to say and peace out my friends. ;D**

**Fun Fact: The Titanic was the first ship to use the SOS signal.**


	5. Chapter 5

** Mm…my doggie's so warm…;w;**

**XXXX**

_Artie,_

_ Hey Artie, got your letter. Sure, I guess that dogfight in between us was a good time, though you were pretty convincing about wanting to hit me…damn you're good. But now that I know that you didn't consider it a fight, that's good to know. I made sure you'd know it's me, because I AM the hero! Yeah, I think Mattie's a good pilot too._

_ Oh, I'm great on my personal behalf! Though I can't say the same about poor Feli…we lost Lovino on the tenth and it's been so hard to keep him going lately. Sometimes he won't get out of bed, sometimes he'd cry himself to sleep. He's not very cheerful anymore either. I know it's a terrible thing to lose your sibling, but the good that came out of it is his new aggressiveness in combat. He's not the kind of guy to grudge, but I think he's holding pretty tight to one. Kiku spends a lot of time with him and all we need is Ludwig to complete their little group. Gilbert's being Gilbert of course, though every now and then he'd be really nice to Feli. _

_ So it's hectic over there? Hell, those huge attacks you're pulling on the east coast are pretty damn bold of you. I heard that it was complete and utter chaos down south too near Florida and Georgia. From what I've been hearing, the ALA have lost 36 and had 61 damaged, the RAF lost 18 and had 30 damaged, the USAF lost 59 and had 109 damaged and the RCAF lost 8 and had 38 damaged. Those numbers are massive! I didn't know something that enormous was possible, but the one on Canada a couple years ago was pretty bad too…_

_ You've pushed up pretty far back too, my squadron, 205, had to leave our base and station in Kentucky. I really want to say something else too, but it'd be considered swapping information, so I won't. _

_ I really hope this war ends too, it's been going on for six years. I guess this is our last stand eh? I don't know, it just feels like that._

_ Oh hey, how's that Francis friend of yours doing? Did he get shot down or something? I mean, I'm not trying to sound like a jack ass or something, but is he over there since the massive number of those lost could include him. Mattie seems to have forgotten about him…oh! If this war ends and we're all alive, we should get together and I'd LOVE to see Mattie's reaction to meeting Francis! That'll be hilarious! And we should try to find Lovino too…_

_ Well, you asked for a long letter. Hopefully it's good enough._

_ Alfred_

Alfred grinned proudly down at his long letter, it being double sided. He then set the pen down and folded it gingerly in hopes of keeping the ink from smearing before putting it in an envelope. He then turned the envelope to the blank side and wrote his name in big bold marker before capping it and grinning at it. He'd send this later today.

Standing up, he left the small bunk room and headed immediately for the mess hall, starting off with greeting Kiku who was eating next to Feliciano who was nibbling on some pasta that the Japanese pilot had likely requested for him. "Sup bro?" Alfred grinned, fist bumping with Kiku. They'd picked it up (more like Alfred forced Kiku to pick up) near their first years in the US Air Force and normally greeted each other like that when Alfred felt casual. "How's Feli doing?"

"He's better than he was a few days ago," Kiku smiled up at Alfred before returning his attention to the Italian sitting across from him. "Please Feliciano, just a bit more and we can leave," he urged and then returned his attention to his American friend.

Alfred grinned and pat Feliciano on the shoulder lightly, catching the older pilot's attention. "Hey, cheer up. Once this war's over, we can immediately go look for Lovino…" Alfred encouraged and Feliciano simply averted his gaze to the dull table his food was atop. After receiving no reply, Alfred sighed and mumbled about getting something to eat.

He turned and walked off to do what he had excused himself for. Kiku sighed himself and pat Feliciano on the shoulder much like Alfred had. With the other hand, he picked up the fork and resumed with eating the food he had for himself.

"Hey Al," Matthew greeted, approaching his friend with his own food. Alfred grinned and returned the greeting. "So, are you planning on doing anything specific today? I don't know, Gilbert's been wanting to play some card games lately and I just so happen not to have a deck on me, so I'm trying to get away at the moment…"

Alfred chuckled. "Gilbert will be Gilbert Mattie. There's not escape," he grinned and Matthew snorted at the…he couldn't exactly call it a warning. "Ah…I have nothing to do, just finished writing a long letter to Artie, so yeah. Just waiting to be called to the front lines I guess."

"As always," Matthew sighed.

"Of course."

They spent the rest of their day doing as Gilbert wished, playing cards, drinking a bit, watching Gilbert shuffle a deck of said cards horribly, goof off in their rooms, whatever—most of the time though, Alfred became bored quickest and ended up complaining his way out of their activities. Matthew had told Alfred that it came with the job and the American simply huffed.

It was about eight and the sun had long set, the runway being lit up with lights. Alfred and Matthew were currently just hanging out with Gilbert, Feliciano and Kiku, talking about nothing of great importance until Matthew brought up something that was a bit important.

"Hey Al, what'll you do when this war ends?" he asked. "I mean, do you want to do anything? I'm sure you're kind of sick of going out in your plane and shooting at other people almost every single day…"

"What? No way, that'll never get old," Alfred snorted, waving a hand in the air. "And what'll I do? Mattie, I'm ashamed! You should know me better! Isn't it obvious that I'd buy the first flight to England and see Artie? It's been too long since I last saw him personally!" Alfred continued, stretching his arms high into the air and letting out a yawn. "And you're coming with me!"

"Heh…that ticket will be extremely expensive Alfred," Matthew smiled and shook his head.

"Yeah so? Just watch! I'll be able to rake up enough cash for both of us to get a regular flight there _without_ the help of the military!" Alfred proclaimed loudly and all Matthew could do was sigh.

"You sound pretty sure of yourself."

After that, their conversation returned to casual things such as their favorite soups. That continued for quite a bit before they were called out to perform one of the last patrol runs of the night at about ten.

"I don't see anything," Alfred yawned. They'd managed to fly pretty far out to sea and were expected to turn around pretty soon. "Guys, let's turn back in about five," he continued and got a few affirmatives from his partners.

"_I didn't see anything either…maybe they chickened out and gave up,"_ Gilbert proclaimed boldly before yawning himself. "_Damn, I'm tired…let's turn back right now,"_ he added. Alfred hummed his agreement before announcing that the five of them should be turning around. Feliciano and Kiku, who were in back, turned around first, then Matthew and Gilbert, then Alfred. They got themselves back into the regular formation though with Alfred in front, Gilbert and Matthew in middle and Kiku and Feliciano in back.

"Gilbert, I think the British are a bit more stubborn than that, though, I'm not sure about the French," Alfred replied, it being a slight delay.

_"Alfred, the French got that from World War Two…and they surrendered mainly because the Germans came in way too fast …"_ Kiku informed and Alfred snorted. They fell silent, the only sound being the engines of their planes in the deep darkness. It took a moment before they reached land and lights from towns and cities were bright below them. Alfred always found the time to smile down at the sight. It was beautiful, too bad they were destroying places like this. The rush of his first mission had prevented him from fully taking in Paris at night…as well as the fact that he was being chased by some fifty Dassault planes.

Alfred blinked to attention when two spots lit up on his radar. He rubbed his eyes and continued to stare before realizing that two enemy aircraft were a couple thousand feet above them. Straightening up, Alfred looked up and spotted two small lights that were gradually increasing in size. Licking his lips, Alfred returned his attention to the radar. "Guys, we've got two enemy aircraft above us…" he announced and he received silence as an answer.

They continued to fly straight for a few seconds before Alfred figured that it was the right time. "Break!" he barked and everyone immediately broke the formation. It was a better response than the first of course. Just as they broke the formation, two planes exploded past them, pulling up immediately to gain altitude once more.

Alfred recognized one to be a Eurofighter and the other to be a Dassault Rafale. The Eurofighter immediately went to chasing Matthew who kicked it into high gear. "Damn! Is there only two of them? If so, they're getting a little _too _confident!" Alfred growled.

"_I really doubt that there's only two of them Al, just wait, we'll see," _Matthew pointed out. The Rafale burst past his F-15 and began chasing Gilbert's plane. As the French plane had done so, Alfred had recognized a red rose with white cursive under it.

"Do all Frenchie's have damn roses on their planes?" he decided to question as he turned his plane to chase the Rafale. "It kinda seems like it!" he continued before shooting a missile only to have the plane roll out of the way and behind Alfred, shooting a missile of their own. Cussing under his breath, Alfred rolled his plane as well, shooting off a few flares as a 'just in case'. "And who are these two, thinking they can just come in and leave without a scratch?"

"_I told you, there still might be more!"_ Matthew restated and Alfred ignored his Canadian friend. He turned to follow the Eurofighter an immediately recognized the 'Arthur Kirkland (Angleterre)' on the plane. Never mind his earlier question.

"It's Arthur and his friend!" Alfred announced.

"_I thought his friend flew an F1,"_ Matthew pointed out. Yep, he'd read Alfred's letters pretty thoroughly, Alfred might have to start hiding them.

"Apparently they gave him a new plane!" he huffed. He looked down at his radar, looked up and performed a double take. His eyes widened, the five of them that had been sent off for easy patrolling could never stand up against how many aircraft his radar was picking up on. "Holy hell…" he muttered before looking ahead. "Guys! Back off, forget about these two! We've got over one hundred aircraft heading our way" he barked and turned his plane.

"_Over one hundred? No! Let's fight!"_ Gilbert's tone was excited unlike Alfred's.

"Gilbert! Gah, whatever—squadron 205, Alfred, Matthew, Kiku, Gilbert and Feliciano are requesting back up! We've got ourselves in a tangle!" Alfred contacted base before turning his plane around once more and heading in the direction of the large number of enemy aircraft his radar was picking up.

The five of them threw themselves into a massive dogfight full of fighters and bombers alike. Alfred had told his partners to 'shoot down as many as you can' and Gilbert had happily gave an affirmative. Alfred had shot down a Tornado rather quickly and was proud of himself for the fast kill before pulling off to the side to chase an F1. He'd briefly caught a glimpse of Matthew duking it out with a Eurofighter.

Alfred rolled his plane out of the path of a missile along with blending a flip into it so he was tossed behind a plane that was chasing him as he chased an F1. He shot a few bullets as he passed over the Mirage 2000 and once he was in a good position behind the French aircraft, he shot a missile, getting them good in the rear. The plane didn't nosedive, but it was obvious it wasn't able to get all the way home.

He turned off to the side to fly by a bomber, getting one of the turbofan engines good with a missile. He grinned over his shoulder as the large plane's left wing bent and fell off, the bomber plunging to the earth below.

Taking no further time, Alfred chased a 2000 that had just bypassed him. The chase didn't last long when he shot a missile unintentionally and got their rear wing, making the plane extremely unstable for it was the only one it had. "Bye-bye sucker," Alfred grinned as he flew over the ALA pilot that was just starting to spin out of control.

He grinned and turned off to the side once more to find another fighter or bomber to attack when Gilbert's F-15 burst by, having just blown up a plane, making the scene rather cinematic. "Showoff!"

"_No way dude! I'm just awesome!"_ Gilbert laughed boisterously. Alfred huffed and immediately found another victim to shoot down.

"_400, 240 and 301 squadrons are present_," a familiar voice announced over the radio and Alfred grinned.

"Thanks Wang Man, just shoot 'em 'til they run," he replied boldly and he heard the Chinese pilot scoff. He snickered himself before resuming his pursuit.

The three new squadrons broke formation and joined the already massive dogfight of five against over one hundred. They now made that number forty five. This dogfight lasted longer than some Alfred had been in and by the time the RAF and the ALA decided to turn and high tail it out of Virginia, they'd already shot down almost two thirds of the planes that had arrived.

Alfred wiped his brow and sighed. "Whew…what a rush, I was really afraid that we'd be alone on that one," he grinned, glancing around himself at the planes that he was able to see. His allies. "You guys are awesome, honest. Not you Gilbert, don't say anything."

"_Aww, you're not fun," _ the silver haired pilot whined and Alfred snickered.

"Thanks Yao for getting them here so quickly," Alfred then thanked.

"_No problem Alfred. We're always here,"_ the Chinese pilot replied and Alfred could just imagine the professional expression Yao would be wearing. The Chinese pilot did have a fun side to him though, he just didn't show it when he was up in the air and protecting his allies. Gilbert was an exception since everyone seemed to get a bit more serious when they started dogfighting.

Eventually 400, 340 and 301 broke off and headed back to their bases in different areas in Kentucky and even Tennessee. They arrived at their base not too long after and landed their planes, none of them severely damaged. The five of them were lucky that they never seemed to get hit at all save for Matthew's partial collision with a French ALA pilot earlier.

"Guys, I don't know how many I got, but I can guarantee you that I got a whole bunch of planes!" Alfred grinned. "I mean, almost every single one I chased went down, how awesome is that? I've got mad skills."

"No way, I bet I got more than you because obviously, my skills are better than yours," Gilbert grinned broadly and Alfred snorted with a 'I doubt it'.

"I guess that's why it was so uneventful today, they were building up for this."

"Nah, that was too small and they seem more like they're on their last legs. I mean, not like give up, but more like lose interest in the war. Like when you're like 'wait…why am I doing this?', ya know?" Alfred voiced his opinion on the matter and Matthew shrugged his shoulders as they walked out of the hangar. "I do really hope this war ends soon."

The next few days that passed were even more uneventful than that day. They did go out patrolling, but nothing was found and they'd turn back and wouldn't be called out to the front lines as often as they were just a week ago. Alfred had resumed with his complaining about being bored and soon enough, Gilbert had joined him. That only annoyed everyone and they were once locked up in the closet for a few hours.

At the current moment, Alfred was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He really didn't know what he'd be doing for the rest of the day and the normal things that kept them entertained until they were called out had become old since they weren't being called out anymore. Card games had become dull, card tricks had become dull, they were limited on their alcohol intake and there really wasn't much to do. They'd even went as far as playing Ninja.

He glanced over at the doorway as Matthew walked through it and seated himself in the bed next to Alfred's. Rolling onto his stomach, Alfred grinned at his friend. "Sup."

"Good news," Matthew grinned back and Alfred raised his eyebrows in interest. "England and America are agreeing on a cease-fire," his grin only widened and Alfred's broadened as well.

"Whoa! Are you serious?" he asked, jumping up onto his knees, bouncing slightly on the bed. Matthew nodded his head. "What about Canada and France?" this all seemed to be coming out of nowhere. A few days ago, England and France had been hitting them rather hard, and now they were agreeing on a cease-fire, but as long as it ended the war, Alfred was happy.

"A peace treaty is being planned."

"S_weet_! This calls for an epically awesome celebration! C'mon, let's tell everyone!"

XXXX

**M'kay, this one's shorter because dogfights tend to make the chapters longer. :P Have you noticed that? I have. Hey! Guess what? I ended the war. :3 I was going to update yesterday but…got preoccupied with Hetalia commentary. Oh God, Michael Tatum, Scott Freeman and Eric Vale all together…they were great. I was laughing my ass off. "What would you like to forget?" or something like that and one of them was like "Everything" in a really funny voice and ugh…it was just funny. :3 Oh and the one on the second season with Scott Freeman and Michael Tatum, that one was hilarious too. Catapillah!**

**Fun Fact: 'Typewriter' is the longest word that can be made using only one row of keys.**


	6. Chapter 6

** Listening to Me Love by Sean Kingston…**

**XXXX**

The first thing Alfred did once the cease fire had officially been called was get himself, Matthew, Gilbert and Feliciano some vacation time. Kiku had decided that he didn't want to come. The second thing he did was 'borrow' money from his parents along with raking up some cash via quite a few days of working. After that, it was four expensivetickets to England, and they were _very _expensive. Alfred wasn't sure he'd be able to get enough money for the rides back home once the time rolled around.

At the current moment, they were standing in the middle of London with their luggage, looking damn well like tourists. They probably looked a bit odd too since the place was absolutely totaled. Buildings either had enormous, gaping holes in them, threatening to topple them over or they'd already been torn down in the midst of all of the conflict just over a week ago. So coming here for vacation probably wasn't on top of quite a few people's lists.

"Jeez, it didn't look so bad from up in the sky," Alfred mulled, looking up at the bright sky. "And I'm surprised that it didn't storm whenever we went. Isn't it supposed to be really dreary here?" he continued, looking back at his friends, Gilbert looking like…well, Gilbert and Feliciano looking a bit nervous. Matthew was examining the city as well taking note on how many iconic structures were now missing.

"Well, there were a ton of missions postponed because of the weather, I guess we just got all of the lucky ones," Matthew then mulled, shaking his head. "It's a real shame though…I'm not seeing quite a bit of buildings you'd normally see when you come to visit," he continued. "Should probably go to Paris sometime too to check on how that place's doing."

"Dude, I'm _not_ going. God, all of that money…" Alfred groaned. "I didn't even know it was possible to make flight tickets that expensive," he muttered as he raked a hand through his hair. "Anyways, c'mon, let's just walk around. Where do you think Lovino is?"

"Well, prisoners of war are normally held in camps or reserved jails from what I've heard," Matthew pointed out. "We should ask around places like that first."

They continued walking around the city, assessing the damage they'd caused. The craters in the ground created by the missiles that had been misled or dodged had clearly been filled up sloppily. It was likely that they'd go back to them though, to fix them up more properly now that the haste of war was over.

"Fuck you! Give me the damn shit, I'm a fucking dirt poor motherfucker, so hand it over bastard!" someone wailed, catching the group's attention. Alfred grinned broadly at the sight of Lovino, who was still decked out in a worn US Air Force uniform, arguing with a street vendor that had decided to come out for the day. The guy simply crossed his arms and have Lovino a hard stare and the hotheaded Italian returned the gesture.

"_Lovino!_" Feliciano cried, dashing over to his twin and hugging him from behind. Feliciano's twin simply swore even further and tried to wiggle out of Feliciano's tight, bear hug. The other three approached them, Gilbert looking well…still like Gilbert, Alfred with his broad grin and Matthew looking a bit confused.

"Dammit, what is with you and hugging?" Lovino demanded heatedly, shoving Feliciano off of him only to have his twin latch back onto him.

"Uh…mind if I ask why you're here?" Matthew asked, rubbing at the back of his head. He really looked baffled and it humored Alfred.

"Uh, duh? Did you not notice me gone? Fuck, I was shot down you bastard and had to hide from these motherfuckers until this damn war ended! It's about fucking time you arrived! I'm fucking starving, it's hard hiding with only your uniform as clothes! I had no money and I _suck _at stealing!" Lovino burst angrily. He was about to continue when he heard Feliciano sniff and looked down at his twin who was still latched onto him. "What?"

"I-I'm super happy that I found you, b-but all you do is yell at us…" Feliciano wept and it was clear that Lovino was now going through a guilt trip. He awkwardly grunted before hugging his twin back briefly and shoving him off directly afterwards.

"There, you happy?" he muttered and Feliciano grinned through his tears, wiping them from his cheeks and nodding his head. Lovino then huffed and muttered under his breath about Feliciano being a crybaby.

Gilbert then grinned and clapped his hands together. "Well! That was easy, finding Lovino," he announced. "I'm glad you're so loud Lovino! We would've never found ya if you weren't being you!" he continued and Lovino spat on the silver haired pilot who immediately made a disgusted sound and wiped the saliva off of his chin. "Dude! What was that for?"

"Bastard," was all Lovino replied with before returning his attention to his twin. "…Did you still get Italian?"

"Hm? Oh…no I didn't. I knew you'd still want some, so I saved the moment for you. Kiku did request some for me even though I told him he didn't need to," he smiled softly. "Kiku's super nice, he's been my best friend ever since Ludwig showed him to me~!"

"So what are we going to do now?" Gilbert then asked, stretching his arms above his head. "Thing's here are obviously going to be closed for a while, so what do we do now?"

"Well Mattie and I need to find an old friend, so we'll be seeing you around!" Alfred piped, grabbing his Canadian friend by the wrist and dragging him off without Matthew's consent. Gilbert watched the two look alikes walk away from them before turning and grinning at the Vargas twins.

"So guys, what do you want to do around this dump?"

Alfred and Matthew continued to power walk, courtesy of Alfred, around London, the American clearly clueless about what he was doing, but too prideful to admit it. Matthew didn't say anything either though, and let himself be drug around England's capital until Alfred legitimately asked for assistance. He wondered how long his friend could go before caving in.

They suddenly stopped in the middle of a sidewalk and Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. "Uh…"

"You don't know what you're doing don't you?" Matthew asked almost smugly.

"…I was just waiting for you to say something," Alfred muttered and Matthew rolled his eyes. That was something Alfred would do too. "Where do we start? I obviously don't know where Artie's stationed, though he could be out and likely here since he mentioned in one of his first letters that he hangs out in London quite a bit."

"Well let's just search around until we find something helpful," Matthew suggested and Alfred huffed.

"That'll take too long," he pouted and Matthew took his turn to drag Alfred around town. After a bit of dragging and being drug, they came across a familiar face and a vaguely familiar face. "Artie!"

"Yeah, it's a tough job an—gah!" Arthur yelped when Alfred tackled Arthur, getting a running start to top it off. Matthew soon approached the two, who were currently on the ground, looking a bit embarrassed before looking at Arthur's talking buddy. He had wavy blond hair and blue eyes, a beard that was just stubble and…

"_You_!" both Matthew and Arthur's friend barked simultaneously, pointing a finger at each other. It caught Alfred and Arthur's attentions and they looked at the two.

"You're the bastard that _dared_ to blow a damn kiss those years ago!" Matthew accused loudly.

"_Bastard?_ Have you ever heard of being friendly? I was just being nice!"

"No way! You're not supposed to do that in the middle of a God forsaken _war_!"

Alfred removed himself from Arthur and watched in amusement and Matthew than this fairly familiar blond went back and forth as if they'd known each other for their whole lives. "So, is this this Francis guy you were talking about in your letters?" he asked Arthur who sighed and nodded his head. Arthur then stood up and yanked on one of Francis's ears.

"Ow! Oh come on Angleterre! I was just talking…"

"_Just_ talking?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow. Alfred wished that he'd been able to snap a photo at that moment. The look of pure apathy on Arthur's face was priceless. Francis opened his mouth as if he were going to say something before huffing and deciding against it. "Now Matthew, this is Francis Bonnefoy. Francis, this is my old friend Matthew Williams."

Matthew simply huffed, crossed his arms and averted his gaze in response. Francis gave Arthur a look that clearly read 'do I really have to be nice to this guy?' before mirroring Matthew's reply. "Oh God," Arthur groaned before facepalming. "They look like children."

"Do not!"

"Those two are in perfect sync," Alfred snickered. Arthur than looked at him as if sizing him up and Alfred stopped his snickering and suddenly felt self-conscious. His old friend then smiled and placed a hand on his hip.

"You look older. Don't act like it though," he then pointed out and Alfred pouted. "I'm surprised you were able to get here. I saw how expensive tickets to America, Canada, England and France have become. They almost literally sky rocketed."

"It was a real pain getting the money, but hey, we're here. Oh, and Gilbert, Lovino and Feli are here," Alfred answered. "Lovino's here because he was shot down, though I think I already told you that in a letter."

"Yeah, you did," Arthur nodded his head in remembrance.

"So! You gonna show me your precious?" Alfred grinned, suddenly changing the subject as he placed his hands on his hips. Arthur could only raise an eyebrow in question, if Alfred was talking about someone he's in a relationship with, he must've heard wrong.

"I think your cher here is trying to say that he wants to see your plane," Francis grinned at Arthur. Arthur huffed at the 'cher' and was happy that Alfred didn't know what that meant. The Briton then sighed and nodded his head, telling Alfred he'd let him see 'his precious'.

He was slightly surprised that they'd let Arthur take Alfred and Matthew to the hangar, but then again, the guys just seemed tired when they waved them off. At the current moment, Alfred was ogling over Arthur's Eurofighter, currently seated in the cockpit. "Sssoooo cooooll…" was the only coherent thing he was muttering at the moment.

Matthew on the other hand, was standing a good distance from Francis as he examined the Eurofighters and Tornado's around him. He immediately recognized the one with the bull in front of a yellow circle.

"This thing has like, _no_ dials!" Alfred piped in awe. "It's all electronic screens!" he continued. "Man, this thing's so nice and fancy-smancy! I wonder when the Silent Eagle's gonna be active in the Air Force…"

"Al, the F-15SE is still being tested, I doubt it'll be active for another year or two," Matthew pointed out from his spot in the middle of the hangar. Alfred glanced over at Matthew, muttering something along the lines of 'you're such a killjoy' before he furrowed his eyebrows. He then grinned and motioned for Matthew to take a few steps to his right and a bit confused, the Canadian did so.

"Aww, there we go! Now you look like you know each other!"

"Alfred you hoser!" Matthew barked once he noticed how close Alfred had gotten him to Francis.

"What? I don't think he's that bad," Francis grinned as Matthew stepped away from the French pilot. Alfred grinned and gave Francis a thumb up.

"Ugh, he's bad once you get to know him better," Matthew muttered.

"You're a bit bad yourself," Francis replied.

Alfred had resumed with checking out the Eurofighter, Arthur standing at the bottom of the plane, on the opposite side of Francis and Matthew. "What is _wrong_ with you?" Alfred perked to attention when he heard his friend wail.

"Jeez Mattie, didn't know you could be so loud," he grinned before shifting his position so that he was looking at his and Arthur's friend, said Brit peeking under the Eurofighter and at the two.

"But this guy is frustrating!" Matthew whined, swinging his hands in Francis's direction.

"Naw, he's only frustrating because you're still pissed about that attack," Alfred replied, waving a hand in the air in a slightly careless manner.

"I think Francis can be frustrating at times," Arthur spoke his opinion, jumping up onto one of his plane's wings. Matthew huffed and crossed his arms and Alfred could only grin.

"I think he just has a subconscious crush on him," he muttered to Arthur who grinned.

"Maybe."

"What's all of the yelling about?" someone asked. Looking over to the entrance to the hangar, they saw a brown haired, green eyed young man with a Spanish accent and a slight tan. "Hm? Arthur quiénes eres estos? Amigos?"

"Oh, just a few hotheaded visitors," Francis answered for Arthur, Matthew barking something in the background, though he managed to tune the Canadian out.

"Well, not really hotheaded, Mattie down there normally isn't all 'in your face' and stuff like that," Alfred mulled. Antonio grinned at Arthur as he stopped at the foot of the plane.

"So, is this the friend you were talking about?" he asked as Arthur swung his legs over the edge of the wing he was on, nodding his head in the process. "Impresionante."

"Dude, you speak Spanish?" Alfred piped, turning in the opposite direction so that he was now facing Antonio. "That's so cool! Spanish is awesome dude!" he continued excitedly, Antonio grinning proudly as the American said so.

"Excuse moi? And not French?" Francis questioned as he moseyed over to the Eurofighter.

"Hm? Oh, yeah French's pretty cool with those weird noises you guys make, but I still like Spanish the best for some reason. It just sounds really cool, especially the double r's! A lot of people can't do that you know!" Alfred piped, averting his attention in between Antonio and Francis. "Besides, it's Mattie who's got the hots for French."

"Do not you liar!"

Alfred snorted in humor and grinned at the ALA pilot. "He's right. 'M just joking here, but he does take interest in French. Hey Mattie! Why didn't you take French while you were in Canada?"

"I never thought about it Alfred," Matthew muttered as he approached the plane as well.

"Oh hey! Yeah, Gilbert, Lovino and Feliciano are probably wreaking havoc on London! Can't let that happen, c'mon, let's go look for them before they tear the place down even more!" Alfred announced abruptly, jumping out of the cockpit.

"Gilbert? As in Gilbert Beilschmidt? Wait one moment por favor! Un momento!" Antonio piped, grinning broadly as he turned and ran out of the hangar to retrieve something or someone. Alfred watched Antonio leave for a moment before becoming confused for a brief moment. Then he remembered that Gilbert had a sibling.

"Do you think he's getting Ludwig?"

"Likely," Arthur nodded his head. "Quite the reunion today I guess. Everyone's meeting everyone again."

"And then we've got someone meeting someone new," Alfred grinned at Matthew who stuck his tongue out at his American friend.

The sound of Antonio's happy Spanish and a deep voice with a slightly awkward tone could be heard as Antonio came parading in with Ludwig. "Hola amigos! We can go now!" he announced loudly as Ludwig tried to tug his wrist out of Antonio's grasp. "I've got Ludwig!"

"Oh cool! Gilbert and Feli are going to be so happy!"

Ludwig took a moment to let what Alfred had said sink in before he stopped his struggles. "Gilbert's here? And Feliciano?"

"Of course dude!" Alfred grinned, sliding off of the wing of the plane and landing heavily on his feet. "Kiku isn't here though, that would've been awesome though, you Kiku and Feliciano were like, an epic trio, although I'm sure we can come up with something even more awesome (1)…"

They spent quite a bit of time wandering around London in hopes of catching wind about three weird people, one loud, another childish and the last very, very moody. It took about an hour until they finally found Gilbert, Lovino and Feliciano loitering in Hyde Park. Gilbert looked like he was doing something akin to sunbathing, his luggage a bit of a distance from his actual location.

"Heey! Hey guys! Look who we've brought!" Alfred called, catching quite a bit of attention, though he didn't mind that at all. Gilbert looked up, seemingly about to complain about something when he spotted his little brother.

"Bruder!" he cried, jumping up and racing over to them. Ludwig held up his hands in hopes of getting his brother to stop only to have the silver haired pilot tackle him to the ground. "Es ist so gut dich zu sehen!"

"Luuudwiiiiig!" Feliciano then jumped down next to them, nuzzling one of Ludwig's hands. "Mi sei mancato tanto!" he cried, looking on the verge of tears. Lovino simply stared at them from a distance, that infamous look of 'I don't know these people', gracing his features.

"Gah! Get off of me you two!" Ludwig barked, his face dark red in embarrassment. Gilbert immediately stood up and brushed the dirt off of his knees while Feliciano refused to let the German go. He simply continued to talk in Italian to Ludwig as the blond stood up. Feliciano then stood up and latched onto Ludwig.

"Come stai?" Feliciano asked, finally stepping away and grinning brightly at his crush, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Uh…" Ludwig couldn't come up with anything to say at the moment. It was kind of embarrassing to be tackled by two strange people in the middle of a moderately busy park.

"I knew you were out there!" Gilbert then accused, pointing an index finger at his brother. "How dare you stand up to my awesomeness in the air! You should've stayed! You know why? Because we would've whooped ass! Why didn't you stay? You should've!"

"Why'd you leave Ludwig? I was so worried and it made me sad to think that you were so far away and that I could never see you again. Can you come back? I think Gilbert would like it that you came back and I know I'd like it if you came back, so I think you should~!"

Alfred snickered at the amount of slightly unwanted attention Ludwig was getting, Feliciano still holding onto one of Ludwig's hands in both of his while his brother had swung an arm around his shoulders, telling stories about some of their missions and obviously, over exaggerating about the whole thing. "He almost looks like he wants to leave," Alfred grinned.

"True, but I know he's happy. Inside that is," Arthur replied as they watched the German pilot. Alfred was watching the scene before something struck him that made his shoulders droop.

"Uh…Artie…?"

"Yes?" Arthur asked, turning his attention to Alfred. His eyebrows raised when he saw the slightly devastated look on the American's face. "What's wrong?" he continued, becoming genuinely concerned for his friend.

"Eh heh…I kinda forgot to book places for us to stay…"

XXXX

**(1) Axis are an epic trio, though they could come up with something more awesome – Hint, hint.**

**Cher - Dear**

**Es ist so gut dich zu sehen! – It's so good to see you! **

**Come stai? – How are you?**

** Baaw, urinary tract infections are so wiiieeeerd…it makes me super antsy and I just cannot sit still. ;A; It doesn't hurt though. It's just an irritation that's just there to annoy you. And I feel like I'm going to despise cranberry juice by the time this is over.**

** Aww, I love how nice out it is…normally it'd be about thirty, forty degrees (Fahrenheit) at this time of the year, but it's an amazing eighty! Ah…I love it. Too bad my vacation to South Carolina will be useless though now that it's basically as warm as it is down there in a week. Baaw.**

** Lol, I was meaning to update yesterday, but like I mentioned earlier, the urinary tract infection made me too antsy and I just couldn't sit still, so I forced my mom to drive me to Barns & Noble just to walk around the place…I think I've mentioned before in another story that I could live in one of those…I couldn't find a new book I'd like though…;A;**

** Mm, I'm going to go outside once I've got this up, my dad's out with the puppy, reading a book and that sounds really nice right now. :3**

**Fun Fact: The Interstate highway system (in the US) was built for some military reasons. Most of the roads are so long so they could be used as runways for aircraft during the Cold War. **


	7. Chapter 7

** I'm off on vacation tomorrow, so I won't be updating anything for a literal week since I'm not taking my laptop with me. Bleh, so yeah, there'll be a huge gap of nothingness. **

**XXXX**

Despite the odds (and the reluctance), they'd managed to squeeze everyone, excluding Antonio, into Ludwig and Arthur's small apartment rooms which resided right next to each other in a slightly beneficial way. Gilbert, Feliciano and Lovino were to stay with Ludwig while Alfred and Matthew roomed with Arthur and Francis who'd already been rooming with the RAF pilot beforehand. And since Francis had been rooming with Arthur beforehand, his stuff was already near the couch.

Unfortunately for him, Alfred decided that he'd 'claim the couch for America' and proceeded with tossing all of the French pilot's belongings to the other side of the medium sized room. Matthew and Arthur watched with slight humor as Alfred and Francis began wrestling over who got custody over the piece of furniture at night.

Gilbert had poked his head in, interested in the sudden commotion next door and grinned at the sight of the two fighting over the only couch in Arthur's apartment. As the self-proclaimed Prussian laughed his ass off and cheered for both pilots equally, Arthur snuck over to Ludwig's room to check up on his comrade. Well…he'd say the sight wasn't exactly the prettiest. Or the best smelling. It kind of looked like a tornado just came through—clothes were all over the place, suitcases wide open and partially empty, it smelt of…sweat and smelly socks since Ludwig's air conditioning was broken (and in the middle of the summer nonetheless).

When he returned to his room, he found the couch capsized and Alfred standing atop it, laughing boisterously about something. Apparently, according to the American and what Arthur was hearing, Francis was under the couch.

The rest of the day was a whirl, and he doubted that they'd get completely settled in today either, which was why he was still in bed at around eight in the morning. He normally got up at six thirty, seven, but today—dare he say it—he was too scared to get out of bed and figure out what was happening. Alfred and Francis were already making it sound like someone was being murdered. Alas, he forced himself out once he heard something break.

Peeking into the kitchenette, Arthur almost wept at the sight. It was absolutely terrible. Francis along with his chair had apparently toppled over and a plate along with a glass lay broken on the floor not too far from the French pilot. Pancake batter was all over the place, even on the ceiling and…did they blow up his toaster? Well, burnt toast was all over the floor…good God, what a waste.

Arthur shifted his gaze to the right and he caught sight of one of his kitchen knives lodged into the wall. "Wh-what in bloody hell did you two do to get a knife stuck in the wall?" he asked, sounding absolutely devastated as he tried to pull the knife out, but with no luck at all at getting it out.

"Eh, heh…long story Artie," Alfred chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. He was about to try to make pancakes again since his first attempt ended in an epic pancake batter fight.

Matthew walked in groggily, rubbing his eyes and muttering a 'good morning' to his American friend. He looked up just as he shoved his glasses on and flinched back rather visibly at the sight. "Holy hell…"

"Remember Mattie, Hell ain't holy," Alfred grinned in an attempt to try to put up a bold bravado, giving that Arthur was sending him a rather scary glare. Matthew continued to assess the damage Alfred and Francis had caused to Arthur's little kitchenette and when his gaze fell on said Frenchman, he waved and grinned himself only to get a glare in response from the Canadian.

"Uh…what happened?" Matthew asked, brushing the one curl of hair that stuck out only to have it bounce back into place.

"He started it," Alfred and Francis instantaneously accused the other at the same time, pointing a finger at the other. While Arthur sighed and dropped his death glare, Matthew put his hands on his hips and furrowed his eyebrows.

III

Alfred found himself tugging at the knife that was stuck in the wall while Matthew tried his best at what used to be a toaster. Arthur had drug Francis off to go grocery shopping so they would have enough food for the four of them, advising that Matthew stay instead of Francis mainly because Alfred and Francis together were like fire and dry grass.

At the moment, he really didn't mind having to clean up for some unknown reason while Matthew fumed to himself, scrubbing heatedly at the burns on the counter. Alfred heard Francis's name here and there and cocked an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder and at his friend. "Dude, why are you so bent on hating him? He isn't so bad."

"_Not_ so bad?" Matthew laughed, though there was no humor in it. He then stopped his scrubbing and brushed the curl out of the way only to have it repeat the expected result. He then threw his arms out, motioning to the destruction around them. "You two are terrible. And I'll never forgive him if that's what you're trying to get out of me."

"Oh come on! Admit it, you like him! I mean, you've never acted up so badly as you have been now—damn this is really stuck!" Alfred glared at the knife and tugged harder. Even his seemingly inhuman strength couldn't get this thing out in one go. "Anyways, you being so…weird, it's proof. Stop denying it."

"Uh, last time I checked, I have not one ounce of positive thoughts towards that guy," Matthew said, crossing his arms stubbornly and furrowing his eyebrows. "You can't just assume things Al."

"I dare you to kiss him then!"

"I triple dog dare _you_ to kiss him!"

"_OW!_" Alfred yelped as the knife finally pulled out, dropping it and getting a nice bit of the sharp in his foot. "_UM DYIN'!"_

_ "You're not dying!"_

They ended up having to clean the wound, Alfred wailing like a frightened child throughout the whole process as Matthew held his ankle tightly in a vice like grip. The Canadian observed that the cut wasn't that deep either and didn't look like it needed professional examination, so he settled with bandaging it up, his friend weeping and pouting at the same time. Matthew forgot how many times he'd called Alfred a wuss. "I can't believe you're horribly afraid of cleaning a flesh wound while you're excited about blowing other people up double the speed of sound at extremely high altitudes," Matthew remembered saying.

Eventually, they returned to their cleaning, though they weren't getting much done. "There's no way in hell I'm kissing that guy," Alfred huffed as he scrubbed at the dried pancake batter splattered on the wall.

"Well you seem pretty _cool _with him, so I thought you'd be fine with it," Matthew muttered, still working on what he assumed was the toaster. He was become more unsure as he cleaned it instead of the opposite.

"What was all of—Mein Gott!"

"Hello Gilbert's not awesome brother!" Alfred grinned, waving his wet rag in the air before returning to his job as Ludwig walked further into the apartment room.

"Ugh, Al and that French guy did this earlier this morning," Matthew enlightened the German as he stopped next to Matthew and looked at the thing he was trying to clean. "I'm assuming this is a toaster."

"I am too," Ludwig mulled.

"Hey Alfred! Wanna—whoa!" Gilbert then decided to poke in as well, Matthew's shoulders drooping slightly at the sight of Gilbert since the guy would obviously distract Alfred from his job.

"Proudda me?" Alfred grinned toothily and Gilbert mirrored the facial expression, wandering further into the room.

"Al, please shut up," Matthew requested and he earned a look from Alfred that read 'I'll shut up, but that won't stop me from finding ways to annoy you'. It was likely something he'd be giving Arthur quite a bit in the future.

"So! What about someone dying? I heard someone screaming about dying," Gilbert's grin broadened is possible as he seated himself heavily in one of the chairs at the table.

"Al and Francis somehow got a knife stuck in the wall pretty good right there," Matthew pointed towards the hole in the wall. "So when we were told to clean up, I told him the knife should be the first thing he gets done with. So he pulled it out and dropped it on his foot," he finished, pointing then at Alfred's right foot, the American lifting it to show the bandages Matthew had put on it.

Gilbert began snickering before holding out a fist, Alfred grinning himself and fist bumping with Gilbert as the self-proclaimed Prussian said, "Congratulations dude." Matthew could only roll his eyes at that.

"Alright Ludwig, can you please leave if you don't mind? And bring Gilbert with you? We're trying to get something done here as you can see…" Matthew then requested, motioning to the mess around them that wasn't even one fourth cleaned.

"Yeah, we should go bruder, they're busy," Ludwig agreed, grabbing Gilbert and dragging him straight off of the chair, knocking it over as the silver haired pilot mouthed 'good luck' to Alfred who stuck out his tongue in response. The American then turned his attention back to the pancake batter stuck to the wall.

They continued their cleaning silently, the sound of the rags they were using against the counter and wall being the only sound along with the occasional act of wringing out the water from the rags. "So…you're pretty bent on hating Francis aren't you?"

"Why do you keep bringing this up?" Matthew sighed, irritation clear in his tone. "Seriously Al. Why?"

"Well, I don't really want to be hanging out with a crank for two weeks," Alfred grinned and Matthew twitched slightly, Alfred letting out a nervous laugh as he returned to his work. "But I would at least like a more in-depth reason to why you oppose of him so strongly."

"You should know why I'm angry Al," Matthew muttered, returning to his work as calmly as possible. Alfred simply continued to stare blankly at his Canadian friends back before a grin stretched at his lips.

"Is it because you're covering up the fact that you like him?" he just couldn't resist. When Matthew completely stopped moving, he took the cue to high-tail it out of there.

III

Arthur huffed as he heaved the third grocery bag up. "Ugh! Alright, this is everything…though I can guarantee you that that American will finish all of this in three days," Arthur grunted, voice strained from carrying three heavy grocery bags at the same time.

"Argh! Three days? He'll gain, oh what do they use over there? Thirty pounds!" Francis whined, he himself also having to carry three bags, though Arthur gave him the bags with the canned goods in them, so they were a bit heavier, damn Brit. "Move! I'm going to break my back!"

As they walked down the hallway, Alfred suddenly zoomed by, laughing rather hysterically at the moment.

"Hi Artie! Gottagobye!" his words blended together as he shoved past Francis who yelled after the 'stupid American' to watch where he was going. Another set of hurried footsteps caught their attention and soon Matthew came barreling past.

"Alfred! Come back here, I'm going to _crush_ you!" the Canadian wailed, shoving past the two as well. The two look alikes disappeared and Francis looked over his shoulder before looking at Arthur with a cocked eyebrow, the Brit sighing and shaking his head.

They eventually made it to Arthur's apartment without breaking their backs or falling backwards and cracking their heads open on the stairs. Arthur set his on the table while his friend almost literally dropped them on the floor with a huge exhale. "Be careful with those!"

"I'm sorry, but you just _had _to give me those ones didn't you?" Francis questioned as he moseyed into the small living room, tossing himself over the back of the couch. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows after the ALA pilot before approaching the couch, Francis strewn out on it. He sighed and rolled his eyes and Francis grinned up at the Briton. "Like what you see?"

"Like hell I do," Arthur replied, pulling the pillow from under Francis's head and shoving it on the laughing Frenchman's face. Arthur approached the window and pulled it open, looking down when he heard two familiar voices, shouting down below. The scene was rather humorous, but they'd obviously attract the authorities if they kept what they were doing up. Matthew was currently trying to strangle a laughing Alfred to death from what Arthur was observing. "Hey! You two, get back up here, you're going to attract attention and soon you'll have the police on your arses!"

"Just one more minute! One more and he'll be dead!" Matthew barked, Alfred still laughing and snorting. Arthur huffed and placed a hand on his hip before looked to his left when he heard the window to Ludwig's room open.

"Hiiii Alfred~!" Feliciano called, voice chipper and innocent. Lovino's angry, yet tired voice could also be heard as the Italian's twin tried to tug him back into the room so they could likely close the door, shut the blinds and get more sleep since Lovino was probably having the worst jet lag. Arthur had wondered why Alfred and Gilbert were up so early even though there was a huge time change—it was probably all of the excitement.

Arthur sighed once Matthew stopped harassing Alfred and retreated back to the building, the American still laughing as he followed in suit. He closed the window and approached the couch once more. "Well, since Alfred failed to finish the job," he started, placing a foot on Francis's abdomen. "I think you should finish it."

"Aww, that's not nice of you," Francis pouted, though it was obviously fake. Arthur removed his foot and the Frenchman rolled off of the piece of furniture and walked into the small kitchenette, picking up one of the rags Alfred was using earlier on his way in.

Arthur entered the kitchen a bit after Francis, assessing the damage a bit further. "My poor kitchen…"

"Don't worry, Francis will make your kitchen feel better," Francis snickered as he stood up on the table and began scrubbing at the pancake batter stuck to the ceiling. Arthur snorted at Francis's reply, but didn't say anything. Instead, he approached the table and began packing the food into the fridge, cupboards, etc.

Not much time passed before Alfred and Matthew came parading in, Alfred doing most of the parading. "Oh come on! We all know it, so there's no need to hide—!" the American was cut off when Matthew slapped a hand over Alfred's mouth. Arthur and Francis had stopped what they were doing and were now staring questioningly at the two, Francis in mid scrub while Arthur was about to reach for another thing to put away.

"Al's just being Al, leave him alone," Matthew muttered and Alfred snickered to himself. Arthur was the first to resume with what he was doing before Francis gradually returned to his job as well. Alfred decided that he might as well help out with the cleaning giving that he helped with trashing the place. Matthew on the other hand, headed straight for the couch and plopped himself heavily on it with a tired sigh.

After a moment of them doing what they were doing, Alfred tapped Francis on the knee to get the other pilot's attention. "Hm? Yes Amerique?"

"Amerik? Anyways, I think Mattie likes you, but just doesn't know it. I mean, he denies it a ton, but I think he just doesn't notice it," Alfred muttered, voice low so Matthew couldn't hear. Francis hummed and continued with his scrubbing.

"And why do you say that?"

"Well, you seem like the kind of guy that would flirt with anything with a pulse, so maybe you could pull a few moves on Mattie? Please? I don't want to have to hang around a crank for two weeks…" he asked, grinning up at Francis who's questioning look turned sly. The Frenchman dropped the rag and seated himself on the tabletop, cross legged.

"Sure, I guess we could try. How about tomorrow since you two will be a bit more settled in no?" he suggested. Alfred grinned, this was great! He didn't really like this irritated, grudging Mattie, so hopefully Francis can get rid of that! Francis wasn't so bad…he didn't really understand why Mattie didn't like him, but then again, there was a whole Canada incident…

"Great!"

"Alfred, don't encourage it," Arthur said from his spot near the sink, a warning tone in his voice. The Briton looked over at the two just as they fist bumped and he sighed, shaking his head. He had no idea what to do with either of them…

III

Seems like the jet lag had set in. Matthew and Alfred were still dead asleep and it was almost ten in the morning. Unless Alfred slept in really late, which was something Arthur didn't doubt one bit. He and Francis were currently just sitting at the kitchen table, the ALA pilot reading a newspaper while Arthur was waiting for the water to boil.

"Well, as your friend Alfred would say, France's going down the shitter," Francis muttered, eyebrows furrowing. Arthur cocked a large eyebrow at his friend's choice in words.

"How so?"

"Well, prices were up, employment went down, economy went down," Francis sighed, setting the newspaper on the table. "A few complicated things here and there as well. Reconstructions at a standstill."

"Aren't they going to tear down the Eiffel Tower too?" Arthur asked, leaning forward in slight interest. He'd heard rumors about the French considering tearing down said structure. It was a real shame to hear, but that thing was basically damaged beyond repair.

Francis nodded his head after a delay in response. "That's a real shame," Arthur sighed, leaning back into his seat.

"It's rough," Francis sighed, raking a hand through his wavy blond hair. "They've got detours all over the place. A lot of areas are closed because they don't even know which way it'll fall when it does. That this looks like it's ready to go any minute if you've seen it lately."

"I haven't seen it lately," Arthur shook his head. True he had been stationed in Paris, but the second the cease fire was called, they were given the okay to go back to England. That'd been about over a week ago and giving that Paris was getting a few odd storms, it wasn't much of a surprise that the city was getting a bad beating. It kind of made Arthur wonder why London wasn't getting as much rain as it normally did. He couldn't really complain though, he _was_ enjoying the weather. "Yeah, I heard a lot of things are and have gone down. Like the London Eye. That thing's gone as you can see. Lucky yanks get to keep their Statue of Liberty."

They fell silent for a moment, Francis staring down at the news article and Arthur simply listening for the sound of boiling water. After a moment, the latter of the two sighed and announced that he'd go over to wake up Alfred and Matthew, the Frenchman nodding his head.

"Alfred, get up, it's already ten," Arthur muttered, nudging Alfred's arm. The American mumbled in his sleep, swat at Alfred's hand and rolled over, making the Briton twitch slightly in irritation. He didn't think he needed to do anything more as he stood up and approached Matthew who's sleeping location was on the floor much like Francis. The Canadian's stuff was as far away from Francis's as possible though.

He knelt down and nudged the USAF pilot lightly. Lucky for him, Matthew was a bit better at waking up than the American. "What do you need?"

"Wake Alfred up for me," Arthur requested and Matthew nodded his head and tossed the blanked off of himself. Arthur stood up and walked back into the kitchen just as Matthew kicked Alfred, jolting the American awake. "So, what're they using?" Arthur asked, jumping back to their topic on the Eiffel Tower.

"Good ol' dynamite," Francis answered.

Arthur shook his head with a slight smile. The way his friend said it was just perfect. "You going to be there?"

"Non, I don't think I'd be able to watch," Francis muttered, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the now clean ceiling. It'd taken quite some time to get that done. Alfred had almost started another food fight yesterday night at dinner. It was hilarious, but Arthur went all badass British guy on them…another name would've been nice, but at the moment, he couldn't come up with anything.

"It's too bad they can't repair it," Arthur said.

"Well…I guess some things just have to go. Hey, at least it's being blown up," the ALA pilot replied, waving a hand in the air.

"'Blowing it up' isn't exactly the best way to describe it…"

"Blow what up?" Alfred asked, rubbing his eyes as he stepped into the kitchenette. "What're you talking about?" he continued as he began sifting around for something to eat.

"The Eiffel Tower," Francis answered and Alfred cocked an eyebrow.

"Why? I mean, why're they going to blow it up?"

"Well, they're not really going to 'blow it up'. They're just going to take it down via dynamite," Arthur clarified, Francis grinning at his own word choice. Alfred furrowed his eyebrows this time as he pulled out a cereal that he obviously didn't see as sugary enough, but decided to eat it anyways.

"They're taking it down?"

"Have you seen the condition it's in? There's no way it's going to stay standing much longer," the Frenchman huffed. Alfred remained silent as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, having taken a while to find where the bowls were before sighing and seating himself at the table.

"Well…I guess Paris won't look like Paris anymore," he said. He took a spoonful of cereal before brightening up. "So! Let's do something less depressing! Anyone wanna go out for breakfast? Or brunch or whatever it's called?"

"You're eating right now Alfred," Arthur deadpanned and the American simply grinned at his British friend.

The American swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking up once more. "It'll save your poor kitchen from further harm," he pointed out, voice matter of fact. Arthur thought over it a bit. He didn't want to have his little kitchen to be absolutely ruined once more and they could probably drag Ludwig along so he wasn't the only one being tortured…

"Fine."

XXXX

** Uh…happy spring break? Dunno. So yeah, I won't be here for a week. Peace y'all.**

**Fun Fact: Modern day parkour originated in France.**


	8. Chapter 8

** Sorry for the huge gap of nothingness…:P**

**XXXX**

By the third day, things had calmed down quite a bit and they had gone out for breakfast to spare Arthur's kitchen. They were sitting at an outdoor café eating scones and drinking tea and coffee, Alfred half asleep. Francis was flirting with Matthew, whose face was red in embarrassment and slight anger. Arthur was trying to ignore the rest of the group he was with.

The sleepy American reached out for a scone and took a bite out of it. "Why do these always taste like dead animals?" he mumbled, swallowing the food and taking another bite despite what he'd just asked. Arthur glared down at him before questioning why Alfred was eating one anyways. The American simply shrugged his shoulders and took another bite before tossing it onto the table. The Briton rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea.

Lovino, Feliciano, Ludwig and Gilbert were all approaching the table the other four were seated at, Ludwig appearing to not enjoy his situation. Lovino was muttering under his breath about his twin and Gilbert was eyeing the four in front of them. "Hey you!" he called, catching France's attention. The French pilot cocked and eyebrow and leant back in his seat.

"Oui?"

"Keep away from Birdie," he demanded, stopping in front of the table. Arthur again, ignored the scene and took a scone from the plate in the middle of their table. Alfred glanced up at Gilbert, one eyebrow slightly cocked. Gilbert had had a crush on Matthew for a long time, but had never done anything about it despite his tough exterior. He'd only told Alfred about it since the self-proclaimed Prussian trusted the American the most, ironically. Alfred had promised to keep it a secret for Gilbert and had told nobody thus far.

Why Gilbert didn't want to act puzzled the American at first, but eventually, the silver haired pilot opened up to him. He was afraid that Matthew would think he was a freak for liking another male. His real concern was being turned down, because that meant that he'd have to spend the rest of his time in the USAF with Matthew, who knew that he had a crush on him. That'd be awkward.

His other problem was on the other end of the candle stick. Matthew didn't want anyone other than Alfred to know he was one hundred percent homosexual. So Alfred was in one of those 'stuck in the middle' situations. It didn't bother him much though.

"And why is that?" Francis asked, cocking an eyebrow and shifting his position in the chair he was seated in. Gilbert turned red and balled his hands into fists, Feliciano shying behind Ludwig in fear.

"B-because I like him!" Gilbert blurted and the Frenchman immediately grinned. Matthew's eyes widened and Gilbert sealed his lips shut, willing nothing else to come out. Alfred rolled his eyes, chin still rested on the table as he watched the situation unfold.

"Hola amigos~!" whew…saved by the Spanish speaking guy. What was his name again? Francis looked over his shoulder and grinned at the Spaniard who was cheerfully striding in their direction. "Como estan? Eres bien?"

"Bonjour Antonio," ah, that's his name.

"Oh, picking fights already are we?" Antonio grinned, stopping in front of Gilbert's group and placing his hands on his hips. "Hey, I know some pretty sick moves, let's get this brawl started!" he piped excitedly.

"Whoa Antonio," Arthur started, grabbing a hold of Antonio's wrist before the Spaniard could get closer to Gilbert. "We're not fighting," he continued and Antonio let out a small 'damn'.

"Quit smiling at me!" Gilbert demanded heatedly, pointing an accusing finger down at the Frenchman who had resumed with grinning at the self-proclaimed Prussian.

"What? I'm just trying to be friendly mon ami~"

"Mon ami," Gilbert murmured in a mocking tone. "Stupid fucktard!" he then stormed off. Ludwig quickly apologized and followed after the USAF pilot, Feliciano following. Lovino grunted moodily before following as well, Antonio deciding to go with Lovino as well. The Spaniard tried to start a conversation with the angry Italian who tried to brush him off before snapping at Antonio to leave him alone.

"Uh…sorry. He's got one of those disorder kind of things that mess with how angry you get or something like that," Alfred apologized halfheartedly, waving a hand in the air carelessly. He then reached out for another scone to eat. He then swallowed the food and continued. "Oh, and he has a crush on ya Mattie."

There was a brief moment of nothing before Matthew cleared his throat, stood up and excused himself. Francis and Alfred watched the Canadian leave before the Frenchman leant towards said America. "You're plan is going to fail mon ami."

"Shut up," Alfred muttered, shoving the Frenchman who had no sense of personal space away from himself.

"Ve~" Feliciano started, tugging at Ludwig's sleeve. "Ludwig, Ludwig, can we get some breakfast too~?" he continued. As Feliciano tried to persuade Ludwig into stopping for breakfast somewhere near, Antonio tried to start up a friendly conversation with Lovino.

"Hola, como estas?" Antonio grinned down at Lovino who simply glared back up at the Spaniard, though the small blush gave him away. This guy…didn't look that bad…Lovino simply settled with glaring at the street vendor off to the side.

"Gilbert!" Matthew called, jogging up to the group. Gilbert was the only one to stop and look over his shoulder, Antonio too busy with trying to get Lovino to speak with him and Lovino too busy with glaring at random people. Ludwig was preoccupied with Feliciano and would probably be for the rest of his life. "Wait up!"

"Oh…hey Matt," Gilbert grinned awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "What do you want?"

"…What did you mean by…you like me? I-I mean, I know what you mean, I just worded that wrong. Uh, why haven't you told me?" Matthew asked, smiling the best he could.

"I…" Gilbert started, but his voice caught in his throat. He didn't want to admit it, but maybe this would be his breakthrough. "…I was…a-afraid."

The brief pause made Gilbert fear the worst and he quickly apologized before hurrying along his way, about to call for Ludwig to slow down before Matthew grabbed his wrist. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows furrowed more out of anxiety than anything else. "H-hey…uh…sorry, I just don't have any words, don't think I don't like you b-because I think I do…and…" Matthew licked his lips and glanced shyly up at the sky. "And…would you like to try something out? L-like…a relationship?"

The way Gilbert's eyes lit up made Matthew grin slightly. "Really? Because I don't want to force you into something awkward, you don't have to do this just because I'm your friend and all of that shit and-and…really?"

"Yeah really," Matthew confirmed and Gilbert's grin widened.

"Yeah! This is totally awesome!" he whooped, pumping a fist into the air excitedly. "I-I actually didn't think you'd be like this and shit! Let's go be awesome together!" he continued, taking a firm hold on Matthew's wrist and dragging him off in the direction of his other four friends who were already pretty far ahead. "Wait up losers! Birdie and I are comin'!"

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and shifted in his seat for about the millionth time. "…Our group doesn't feel right without Mattie…" he then pointed out. Yeah, sometimes he forgot the Canadian was sitting there whenever he was hanging out with other people, but now that he was actually gone, it felt a bit…strange. "Why'd he up and run like that?"

"You're dense," Arthur deadpanned as he took a sip of his tea. "He went off to confront Gilbert about his problem. Even Francis made it pretty obvious not too long ago."

"You're mean."

"Do you want to do anything specific whilst you're here?" Arthur then changed the subject, catching Alfred slightly off guard. Alfred remained silent for a moment as he thought over his options. He'd seen quite a few books on London and had even paged through a few of them every now and then…he'd always wanted to go on the London Eye ever since he first learnt about it, but now…

"Sorry for knocking down the London Eye…" Alfred muttered. Tower Bridge was currently under reconstruction since there was quite a bit of damage done to it. Arthur simply told Alfred not to worry about it whilst Francis rolled his eyes in a slightly irritated fashion. "Maybe…maybe we could just walk around I guess? I don't really know much about this place…"

"Uh, sure, tour or just…walk?" Arthur asked, though he made no physical sign that he was getting up any time soon.

"Just walk," Alfred answered with a small grin before he reached out for another scone. "God, these are pieces of shit…" he muttered under his breath as he grimaced at the food before seemingly forcing it into his mouth, which was very likely.

Arthur looked hesitant on what he was going to say next. "…There's a McDonald's not too far from here…"

"Hell yeah!" Alfred leapt up and out of his seat before dashing off without another word, practically leaving a trail of dust behind himself. Arthur and Francis simply stared after the overly enthusiastic American before sending each other questioning looks.

"I swear, he's going to kill himself someday if he continues to eat that…stuff," Arthur then sighed, leaning back into his seat.

"That is one thing we can agree on mon ami," Francis grinned. A moment of wordless silence passed before Alfred came jogging back. As he set the iconic red and white bag on the table, Arthur scrunched his nose in disgust while Francis averted his gaze so he was looking at a music shop across the street.

Alfred blinked, a little confused at the two's behavior before tilting his head to the side. "…What'd wrong?"

"Oh, don't worry about us," Arthur reassured, waving a hand in the air as he too averted his gaze to an Italian restaurant across the street. Italian didn't sound too bad, he was a bit surprised Feliciano and Lovino didn't go there for breakfast…

The two European pilots endured the sound of Alfred down right inhaling his McDonald's before they finally were able to get up and throw the bag away so they could start their stroll of the city. The American continued to look left and right as if he were examining his surroundings like a secret agent that wasn't so secret. He then furrowed his eyebrows and tapped Arthur on the shoulder.

"Hey, does it get crazy at night?" he asked and Arthur cocked an eyebrow in confusion. He didn't exactly get what Alfred was asking.

"What do you mean by crazy?" he asked.

"Well, back home, just like, three years into high school after you left, Mattie and I went out to the city one night just for shits and giggles…uh…do see what goes on at night…And there were a whole bunch of drunk people in between fifteen and like, twenty four, yelling and playing their music too loud in the monster trucks and—"

"_Monster_ trucks?" Arthur questioned, putting emphasis into the 'monster' since he didn't exactly assume they were legal out on public streets.

"Well…they had enormous tires on them and I kinda doubt they were even legal, they had a few patty wagons hanging around in the alleys just waiting for some drunk tard to get in trouble…but yeah, they had huge antennas on them too. Mattie told me they were used for…I can't remember, but it's something truckers have. You know? Semi trucks?"

"Yes, I know Alfred," Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. "But no, nothing like that happens here since tourists like to hang out at night. Let's see, it's just drunk people coming from bars and the such…I'm not sure, I'm asleep before all of that happens anyways," he continued with a grunt. "And plus, you couldn't really have a 'crazy' night for the last few years because of the war…"

"Saw a whole bunch of people streaking in the streets of Paris the day the peace thing was announced," Francis grinned.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were one of them," Arthur sighed and Francis continued to grin to himself.

After a bit more touring, and quite a bit of time taken to drag Alfred away from a pet store, the three blonds were about to head to another street before Alfred looked up and decided to put a wet towel on their 'party'. "…It's gonna rain."

Arthur and Francis looked up as well and spotted the storm clouds hovering overhead. That, and the smell of rain water filled the air. Arthur sighed and shook his head. "We're pretty far from my apartment, so get ready to be rained on."

III

Matthew smiled as he watched Gilbert fawn over a tiny yellow bird they'd just recently bought at a pet shop. He currently had the cage which had the food, etc, inside of it. They'd just arrived at Ludwig's apartment right after they'd bought the bird that Gilbert had become infatuated with and Matthew was trying to find a good place to put the cage.

Earlier, Feliciano had drug them into the pet store (and he swore he saw Alfred obsessing over a small yellow dog) and the second Gilbert saw the tiny bird that the clerks didn't expect to get sold, he'd basically fallen in love it the small thing. They ended up buying it after this huge dispute in between Gilbert and Ludwig, the latter eventually giving in and letting Gilbert buy the animal.

Matthew set the cage on a desk for the moment before looking out the window, noticing that it was pouring buckets outside. "…How're we going to get it home without scaring it to death?" he then asked, the sudden realization of the difficulties of bringing the bird home hitting him. He knew birds were easily frightened to death and an airplane would definitely scare the little bird they'd just bought.

"We'll find a way," Gilbert huffed, cradling the bird closer to himself. Matthew looked out the window once more when he heard thunder crack and the rain drops becoming heavier.

"Jeez, it's really storming out there…I hope Al's returning pretty soon…or at least taking refuge in a store."

"This storm's supposed to last quite a while," Ludwig pointed out as he glared at the small bird in Gilbert's hands. "They won't be able to stay in for too long. I can't really recall, but I heard it was supposed to rain on us for the whole day. And into the night."

"Well…they better get home. Anyways, Gilbert, maybe we can leave the bird with Ludwig?" Matthew then offered and Gilbert pouted.

"But that's a long wait," he huffed and Matthew sighed in response. Gilbert kind of reminded him of Alfred. Feliciano entered the room and immediately gravitated towards the small bird in Gilbert's hands, sticking out a finger so he could pat the small animal on the head.

"Ve~" he started, eyes closed in happiness. "He's so cute~! What're you going to name him? Or is it a her? What're you going to name it~? It's so cute~! Ludiwg, ve~! Look at it, it's so cute~" Feliciano went on, patting the bird with his index finger and then switching to his pinkie finger. "Ve~! Ludwig, let's get a birdie too~!"

"No," Ludwig immediately declined and Feliciano didn't even budge, he was too busy with fawning over the animal.

"Hey Gilbert, want to go to Arthur's dorm? Where it's a bit quieter?" Matthew then asked, motioning to Lovino who was currently demanding that Antonio leave him alone. The self-proclaimed Prussian nodded in agreement and Matthew picked up the cage, waving Feliciano goodbye. The Italian said goodbye to Matthew and Gilbert before happily telling Gilbert's new pet that he'd see him again.

Matthew took out the spare key to Arthur's apartment and shoved the door open. Their room didn't stink as much as Ludwig's, but it was still pretty dirty. He had the spare key mostly because he was the only one Arthur trusted with said object. It was an honor, really. He walked into the kitchen and filled the small bowl with water before returning to fill the other bowl with bird seed. "So, what're you going to name it?"

"…I don't know to be honest. Since I haven't really been considering getting a pet, I never really thought about it, you know?" Gilbert muttered as he sat cross legged at the foot of the couch Alfred had claimed as his own for the duration of their stay. He set the animal on his knee before grinning up at Matthew as the Canadian fetched them two pillows. "So…you want to do anything 'fun'?"

Matthew rolled his eyes in response before giving a verbal one. "Kissing's fine. Take it slow."

"Aww, fine," Gilbert grinned before he leant closer to Matthew. The Canadian's heartbeat sped up in anticipation and he leant closer to Gilbert as well. He could feel his cheeks becoming almost unbearably warm as they got even closer.

"I-I've never really…kissed anyone in a romantic way, so sorry if it's awkward…" Matthew apologized beforehand and Gilbert simply hushed him with a finger.

"Just wait Birdie~" he grinned and they were just about a centimeter apart when Matthew began having second thoughts.

"W-wait, they might be coming back s-soon, Al and Arthur," Matthew stuttered. "W-we should stop and find a place that's a bit more p-private…"

Gilbert simply hushed him once more, though this time with his own lips. Matthew could tell by the way Gilbert kissed him that the self-proclaimed Prussian was rather enthusiastic about this whole ordeal. He began to kiss back though, finally telling himself that it wasn't that bad—

_SLAM!_

"_Holy mother of—I'm freezing my GODDAMN ASS OFF!" _Alfred wailed loudly, Gilbert and Matthew jumping away from each other dramatically, the small bird being sent up into the air before Gilbert caught it as carefully as he could.

The two that had just been kissing glanced at the door where three soaking to the bone blonds were standing, Alfred looking a bit dumbstruck. "Move you git! You're serving as a road block!" Arthur then barked, shoving Alfred into the apartment, Francis following inside as well. The Briton was about to say something else when the bird caught his eye. "That better not be a wild bird," Arthur deadpanned, his voice full of warning.

"N-no way! I bought this with _my_ own money! Back off!" Gilbert barked as the small bird chirped weakly in his hands. Francis muttered something into Alfred's ear before earning an elbow in the stomach, making him double over.

"Dude! Was Mattie just making out with you? Mattie, are you sure about your choice? Be honest," Alfred then started, concern filtering into his voice the more he spoke. Matthew simply let his shoulders droop and a sour expression surface.

"Yes, I'm sure Al. Come on Gilbert, let's go back to Ludwig's room…" he answered as he stood up and straightened himself out even though it was unnecessary. Gilbert stood up, grabbed the bird cage and left as well, Matthew giving Arthur a small apology as he passed by the three.

Once they left, Alfred immediately plopped himself onto the couch only to have Arthur shove him off and tell him to dry up before he even touches anything in his apartment. The American settled with shaking the water off like a dog, earning an irritated Briton out of that. It was worth it though, he was funny when he was angry.

Once they'd dried off, they all sat at the kitchen table, doing nothing of great importance. Alfred fiddled with a fork as he thought spontaneous things over in his mind, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Uh…guys?"

"What now?" Arthur asked, irritation thick in his voice.

"How the hell are those two going to get that thing home without scaring it to death?"

XXXX

** Honestly, I'm super sorry about that huge delay…got myself obsessed with DeviantART (since I started a HetaOni comic on there…) and driver's ed has just started, so I'm kept after school for three hours…for two weeks. And…I kinda lost motivation there. Lol, I told you that'd happen (though probably not in this story). If I stop, I stop. I started this chapter a long time ago and just finally finished it today…at midnight. Well…yeah.**

**Fun Fact: The jelly in a PB&J sandwich was originally there just so the peanut butter wouldn't stick to the roof of your mouth.**


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